


Call It Magic

by DontLetHimGo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I'll probably add more tags as I think of them, It's all going on, It's sorta like a Harry Potter AU but not, M/M, Magic, Secret Relationship, Smut, Soulmates, and that makes you uncomfortable, just know for now that it's a magic au, oh and they are sixteen, please don't read :), so if that counts as underage for you, that's all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontLetHimGo/pseuds/DontLetHimGo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>At Louis’ grin, Harry plops down on the edge of his bed and lets out a heavy breath. “Why are you here, Louis?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>The older boy’s face falls, and his eyes drop to his soaked-through Vans where he kicks them back-and-forth on the carpet, his shoulders moving in a shrug. “I’ve sort of been noticing how you’re not there with me all of the time, and I’m not a fan.”</em></p><p>  <em>“Is that your way of saying you miss me?”</em></p><p><em>Louis’ eyes flick up to Harry for a second before moving away as a small smile appears on his closed lips. “Steady on, Harold.”</em><br/><br/> <br/>Or a Magic!AU where being what they are is illegal, Harry is confused, Louis just disappears sometimes, Liam and Zayn are in a ridiculously complicated relationship and Niall just <em> loves </em> to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is - the chaptered fic that I have mentioned a couple of times in the past few months is finally here! 
> 
> This first chapter, however, is going to be a bit of a test chapter. This style is quite different to the other fanfictions I've written, and is more like other pieces I have written in the past, so I want to see what you guys think before I start posting more. I already have a few chapters written, so we'll see! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Title from "Magic" by Coldplay.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction, and all elements of this are fictional.
> 
> This is a work written by myself, and I do not wish for it to be posted elsewhere. Even if you give me credit, I would much prefer that it stay here on ao3 and on my tumblr only. Thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A MASSIVE thank you to [tomlinsonandstyles](http://tomlinsonandstyles.tumblr.com) for beta'ing this chapter!! :))

 

He sits staring at an immobile pencil for longer than what would be considered normal. Despite his greatest efforts, a repetition of what had happened earlier that day does not occur - maybe he’d imagined it the first time.

No; there isn’t any chance of that. He couldn’t possibly have imagined his mother’s screaming; his father rushing into the room at the sound of the commotion as numerous objects flew around the room and smashed into the walls. They’d then stared at him with a combination of pure fright and sadness for numerous minutes as every levitated item dropped to the ground, leaving Harry standing alone in the centre of the room, his destroyed belongings surrounding him. Both of them had left after that, telling him to stay in his room until he’s told to do otherwise.

So that’s where he is now; his eyes fixed on a single piece of stationery and only half wanting to see it move.

“We can’t! There’s no way—”

It’s the third time that one of his parent’s voices has got loud enough for him to hear through the floor where they are below his bedroom in the kitchen. Letting out a final sigh, he pushes back from his desk and gets onto his feet, running a hand through his hair - which is getting too long, according to his mother.

He tiptoes down the stairs, skipping over those that he knows will squeak if any weight is put onto them and notices the smell of cooking coming from the kitchen before he even reaches the door (for some reason, his mum always decides to cook when she’s stressed).

“I just don’t understand how this could’ve happened.”

His father is pacing back-and-forth across the room, only pausing occasionally when his wife asks him to try some of the sauce she’s making.

“There has to be something there, Anne. It’s impossible for it to stem from nothing at all.”

“I’m sure that none of my family are Magics,” Anne replies. “My mum would have shunned them years ago, if that were the case.”

“What if they’re hiding it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Des. They always slip up eventually - look at Harry: already given himself away and he’s only fifteen.”

Des freezes in his tracks for a moment, before turning around and just looking at Anne’s back. “You actually think he’s…one of them, then?”

Anne shrugs. “Is there anything else that he could possibly be? Unless they’ve discovered any more abominations in recent years, I’m pretty sure he’s a Magic.”

Harry watches through a tiny gap where the door is ajar, seeing his father sitting down at the table and just reading the front cover of a mustard yellow book that is from the bookshelf in the living room. It’s entitled: _“What To Do If Your Child Is A Magic”_ , and it’s a book that Harry has considered having a flick through many times, thoughts of meeting an actual Magic in the flesh constantly present in his mind.

"It says here that we could always try forcing Normalism onto him," Des says after a moment.

Anne takes the pan off the hob and moves to sit beside her husband. “And how would we go about doing that?”

Harry listens as his parents describe different ways of knocking the magic out of him, from locking him in his room for days on end to feeding him strange foods and medicines.

"I think we only have one solution left, love," Des eventually says when Anne has already looked at almost every possibility and disliked most of them.

"I know." Anne sighs, resting her chin on her hands. "I just…think we ought to talk to him about it first."

Des just nods, and Harry misses any further comments because he’s sprinting back upstairs.

 

They’re going to send him away.

 

~*~

 

Muisar School for Magic Correction is an absolutely massive building at the end of a winding, mile-long driveway, and has to be one of the most intimidating places Harry has ever visited. It’s clearly very old; made of limestone with two storey windows and towers and turrets that make Harry’s eyes widen in awe. Nerves flutter around in his belly and make him feel sick when he’s left outside the main entrance with cases of clothes stood beside him and worry painted across his features.

He takes a very deep breath and reaches out for the rope beside the door, which he assumes activates the doorbell. Luckily, his prediction was correct, and he hears a grand chiming echoing inside before the sound of heeled shoes on wooden floor. A slat slides across just above Harry’s head.

"Yes?"

Harry subconsciously takes a step back and clears his throat in an attempt of ridding the lump in it. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.”

The eyes in the slat are the only things that Harry can see of the person’s face, but he has a feeling that they may be raising their eyebrows.

"Oh really? What is your mental, Mr Styles?"

If being called Mr Styles wasn’t enough to put him off, being asked a question which he has no idea of the answer just makes things ten times worse.

"My mental?”

The eyes narrow. “Hm. Wait right here, please.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow when the slat slides back across, leaving him outside in the cold winds howling around him and making him shiver.

It’s minutes later that he hears voices from inside, bickering back-and-forth in hushed tones.

"I'm just not entirely sure whether this is who we are expecting."

"I’ll have to speak to him before any decisions can be made."

"But—"

The slat sliding open again interrupts that comment, and another pair of eyes appear, these ones with deep wrinkles around their scrutinizing gaze. They look Harry up and down a few times, seeming to require a full analysis.

"Harry, is it?" a voice asks. At Harry’s nod, the voice continues. "Now, if what I understand is correct, you discovered that you can move things without touching them, yes?"

Having it put into words in such a blunt manner makes Harry suddenly realize the situation he’s found himself in.

He’s wrong; he’s a freak of nature. He’s been sent here to be put back to normal so he can be accepted by the society he lives in and, most importantly, his parents. He’s going to enter this place as one person and emerge as another—a shell of himself that won’t be the real him.

He doesn’t want to be here.

When Harry doesn’t immediately reply, the voice goes on to say, “How about you show me your power?”

That makes him panic. Not once has he successfully been able to use his power to his will; it’s always been a beautiful accident that just appears out of nowhere. He’s constantly tried to replicate the feeling in his fingers that it brings him, hoping that it might bring the power along with it, but it’s never worked out.

“I’m, uh, not really sure how to do that.”

“But you _are_ Harry Styles, aren’t you? Son of the Normals, Anne and Des Styles?”

At the word ‘Normals’ Harry feels the buzzing. It’s sharp and sudden, present only in the back of his skull at this moment in time. She’s doubting him, and he wants to prove himself—but he can’t stretch to it yet.

All he can do is nod as the eyes continue to watch him cautiously.

“If this is all lies, I will not hesitate to have you removed from these grounds, young man.” The voice has turned to a sub zero temperature—a biting cold that sends a sharp shiver down Harry’s spine but soon straight back up again, hitting the point in his brain and allowing the tingling to spread.

“There is danger in allowing someone who can’t prove himself anywhere near this school, and I will not stand for that.”

_There._

It’s enough to make Harry jolt forward where he is standing, and he stumbles on the loose gravel beneath him before a plant pot comes flying towards to door and smashes on the wall beside it. Almost immediately after, the door swings open and he’s allowed in. When he turns to grab his cases, he sees that they are already gone.

“Jane! Take Mr Styles to his room please, and make sure that all of his bags are present there,” the same voice as before commands from the shadows, clearly not allowing Harry to see its true form.

“Yes, miss,” Jane replies, appearing from around the corner and smiling shyly at Harry. “Right this way.”

 

They walk up the stairs in mostly silence, until Jane breaks it by expressing her apologies at doubting Harry’s ability.

“We have to be so careful, you see—especially in cases like yours when you turn up on your own. Most of the time, Magic students have their parents with them to confirm their entry and—”

Harry tunes out her talking in the end, not really wanting to hear about the way the parents must drag their children here kicking and screaming to be ‘sorted out’. It can’t possibly be a nice thing for any of the adults working here to witness - unless they’ve become immune to it over time. Harry wonders how long the woman the other side of the door has been working here, as her voice sounded fairly worn and she spoke in an old fashioned manner that Harry wasn’t used to hearing other than on his mother’s Downton Abbey DVDs. Why would someone like that want to work in a place like this? And have the authoritative status that she appears to have?

“Here you go,” Jane finally announces, throwing a creaking door open to show a fairly large room containing three of each piece of furniture. “Of course you’ll be sharing this room with two other boys, but they’ve been told to leave you alone for now. They know how hard it is to be sent here, and how much you’ll miss your family. Perfectly understandable.” When Harry doesn’t reply, or even look like he’s thinking of doing so, Jane adds: “Mrs Gardner will see you in a moment—I’ll come and fetch you when she’s ready.”

Assuming that this Mrs Gardner is the headmistress of the school—if he could even call it that—Harry feels his stomach falling to his feet in panic.

Jane leaves soon after that, and Harry immediately feels tears building in his eyes as worry and panic wash over him once more. He’s all alone here - no one will give a shit about him if he’s just here as a project. All he is, is something to be put right and corrected.

Curling in on himself, Harry holds his knees against his face and breathes in the smell of fabric conditioner from his jeans. It makes him think of home; reminds him of his mum in the kitchen, and his dad watching footie in the living room. He wishes that he wasn’t a stupid Magic, and that he could just be a Normal like the rest of his family. _God, what will Gemma say when she hears? Will she shun him too?_ That thought alone is enough to make him cry even harder, sobs shaking his body as he rocks himself back and forth on the bed. Losing his sister—his best friend—will probably finish him. He wouldn’t want to even try and keep going with this life if he were to have to never see her again either.

 

A knock on the door drags Harry’s face away from his jeans as he pokes his head out of the little ball he’s made of himself. “Yeah?”

“Mrs Gardner will see you now.”

Harry leaves his room to find a girl with raven black hair, pointedly looking down at the ground and not at Harry. She doesn’t say a single word before leading the way back down one flight of stairs and along numerous corridors before the two of them arrive outside a large marble door. The girl knocks three times, and suddenly disappears from view.  

“Come in.”

Harry sucks in a breath before stepping up to the door and pushing on it so it opens. It’s heavy, and the mass of it surprises him, but he grits his teeth and gets on with it.

“Take a seat.”

Harry still can’t see where the voice of Mrs Gardner is coming from, but he’s sure that it’s the same voice that was speaking to him through the door earlier. He makes his way up a small flight of steps to where a large chair is placed in front of a marble desk, holding numerous papers and pens next to a computer. There’s a split second before there is a woman sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, leaning backwards in it and wobbling precariously.

“So, Mr Styles—we meet again.”

Harry can’t help but think of old James Bond films as the steely eyes of Mrs Gardner watch his every move. He remains as still as he can, half expecting a fluffy white cat to appear on her lap to be languidly petted.

“Welcome to Muisar,” Mrs Gardner continues. “I can sense that you’re very nervous.”

That’s an understatement if Harry’s ever heard one. Still a tad bit too scared out of his wits to respond properly, he just bows his head and nods slowly, hoping that it’s the right answer to give.

“Well, there’s no need to be. Here, we plan on making sure you have the most enjoyable experience possible.”

Harry feels his teeth grinding together without even having to tell them to do so. _Enjoyable?_ What sort of sick-minded person could possibly describe having a part of them ripped away as being enjoyable? He definitely wants to express this point, but he knows that he’s much too scared to.

“Hmm. I almost forgot that you’re an Empty.”

Harry does raise his head at that. “A what?”

Mrs Gardner lets out a sigh of exasperation, clearly having given this explanation numerous times. “An Empty, like yourself, is a Magic that is born from two Normals. There will be Magical blood somewhere in your family, but it’s undetermined as to where. We can do research, if completely necessary, but that’s only if we think that there might be a problem with your abilities.” She pauses for a moment and leans forward onto her desk, looking Harry right in the eye. “The main problem we have with Empties is what they are led to believe about the establishment that we are running here. You think that you’re here to be made a Normal again, yes?”

Harry nods slowly.

“Well, this school isn’t to stop your magic, Harry—we’re here to enhance it. We want to teach you how to make it better and how to use your other skills. We’re here to help you.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat when he realises that he’s not going to be put through the pain he was expecting, but it’s just so much hearing everything being put into words like that. A lot of him still can’t quite believe the situation he’s in, and although it feels like everything’s happened so quickly, it’s only been a week and a half since he found out about his... _abilities_. As more of him twigs onto the fact that he isn’t who he thought he was, he begins to think about all of the other things he’ll probably find out about himself during his stay here. It makes him feel a bit ill.

“So, Harry—let’s get everything sorted out for you then, eh?”

 

~*~

 

Harry wakes up the next morning after what must have been only one or two hours of sleep, still alone in his room like he had been the previous evening. He wonders when he will actually meet his roommates.

Mrs Gardner explained to him that he wouldn’t have to attend any lessons today, and would be allowed to just be shown around the school by one of the senior students. He would, however, have to wear a uniform.

Once he’s fully awake and has dragged himself out from the tangle of his duvet, he makes his way over to his assigned wardrobe and pulls out the single hanger he was given yesterday during his talk with Mrs Gardner. On it hangs a pressed white shirt, with a burgundy tie and black straight-legged trousers. It’s not half as bad as the uniform he had to wear at school before, so he pulls it on and just has two minutes to make himself look a bit neater before a red haired boy is poking his head round the door.

“G’morning! You ready for breakfast?”

In any other situation, Harry would return the greeting, but his nerves prevent him from doing anything other than nodding and following the boy out of his room and down to the cafeteria.

“I’m Ed, by the way,” the boy says as they walk together. “I’ve been here nine years.”

“Nine?” Harry can’t help but ask.

“Yup. Realised I was a Magic when I was nearly ten—shit, I sometimes forget it's been that long."

"How did you figure it out?" Harry wonders if everybody's situation was as scary and strange as his was.

Ed shrugs. "Set a chair on fire by accident. My dad fucking freaked out—he's a Normal, you see—and it was only when my mum got home that I learnt she's a Magic too."

"Your dad didn't even know?"

"Still doesn't. Wait," the two of them stop just outside a pair of doors with 'Gwidding Hall' written above them on a wooden plaque, "you're an Empty, aren't you?"

Harry has a feeling that he's going to be asked a lot of questions like that today - and this will be one of the only ones that he actually understands.  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

Ed pauses before he opens the door and holds it for Harry to walk through. "Just wondered. Here, how about you go and sit down and I'll bring some food over?"

Harry turns to face the rest of the room, partly expecting it to be mostly empty due to the fact that he isn't aware of there being many Magics in the overall population, but he's surprised to find it almost completely full of what must be at least five hundred students. It's still small compared to his previous school, but the number seems much larger when it feels like five hundred pairs of eyes are on him as he slowly takes a seat at a table for four (which is luckily empty). As those who were looking at him turn back to their breakfast, Harry's eyes scan the room, halting only when they meet those belonging to another boy. They look at one another for a moment longer, before the other boy breaks the gaze and Harry is left staring at the boy's back until he realises what he's doing and decides to look at the scratched surface of the table instead.

“You alright?” Ed’s cheery voice asks as he plops down in the seat opposite and places a tray of food down between them.

Harry breaks out of his reverie and looks up at the older boy, smiling politely. “Yeah.”

  
  


~*~

 

Harry and Ed wait until the hall is cleared of the other students before they leave, walking side by side along twisting and turning corridors until they reach a set of stairs that Harry hasn’t seen before.

“I swear this school is a tardis,” he comments, being careful not to slip on the stone surface during their ascent.   
Ed chuckles. “I thought the same when I first came here. You get used to it.”

Harry huffs in response, sure that he’s going to have to get hold of a map somehow to use until the school looks less like a maze and more like the building he ought to start calling home. He can’t exactly imagine calling it that, however; it’s cold and dim—and there are way too many spiders for his liking. Plus, it is missing that one element that would make it home:  his family.

At that thought, the next query leaving Harry’s mouth is, “Do you miss your parents, Ed?”

There's a pause as Ed considers his answer. "I'm not sure really. Sure, there are times when I can't help but think about my family and how much I miss them, but most of the time , I don't mind too much. Why do you ask?"

"I suppose I just want to know how long it will be before I move on from missing them constantly."

Ed stops when he reaches the top of the stairs and Harry remains on the step below him.

"The way I look at it, is that if you returned to your family now, would they accept you? With knowing that you're a Magic, I mean."

"I don't know," Harry mumbles, looking down at his shoes.

Ed sighs. "I know how much you don't want to think it—trust me; I've been there before—but your parents can't have you in their home. If they did and got found out, they'd be arrested for housing a Magic. It's likely that you'll never see them again."

Harry's head snaps up and he narrows his eyes in Ed's direction. "What if they're different?"

Holding his hands up in surrender, Ed says, "I'm not saying they're not! Just...don't pin all your hopes on them, yeah?"

Just as Harry considers opening his mouth and arguing his parent's case, he has a fleeting thought of how the idea of them doing nothing and just letting him stay at home wasn't even mentioned. It all came down to them not wanting him for the way he is—and that's not something he can return to. He's not sure that he'd even _want_ to return to that.

So he just nods, and Ed carries on showing him around, albeit being slightly more careful with his words.

 

~*~

 

The school is massive, and it takes a good few hours for Ed to show Harry around all of it. There are many different departments, each filled with numerous classrooms and teachers' offices—just like his old school—but the thing that makes it so much bigger, is the fact that it's split in two. One half is all academic learning, with subjects such as maths and English, while the rest is all for Magic learning. There Harry will apparently learn everything about not only his individual 'mental ability', but also about other powers that all Magics have and how they work.

"Finally," Ed says, "this is the sports field."

"So this is where you play Quidditch then?"  

Ed ignores what definitely isn't the first Harry Potter reference that has been made in the duration of this tour and steps over the line onto the pitch. "Football, rugby and hockey are generally the most popular sports here, but there are also tennis and netball courts over near the gym." He pauses and looks back over his shoulder. "Any questions before we go back?"

Harry shakes his head and actually grins, his opinion on the school slowly becoming more positive. "I think you've covered everything, thanks."

Ed returns the smile and gestures for Harry to go first. "It's not as bad as you first think, you know."

“I’m starting to see that.”

The strange thing is, the more Harry tells himself that, the more he believes it to be true.

 

~*~

 

“Ed!”

A loud voice echoes across the hall where Harry and Ed are sat eating lunch, and the older boy immediately turns to the sound. He grins when he sees a blond haired boy standing by some double doors at the end of the room.

“Just a sec,” he says to Harry before jumping up from his seat and jogging away. Harry watches as the blond boy gestures wildly while he talks to Ed, looking a tad stressed out by something. Ed appears to be calming him down, and as Harry’s eyes move away from them, he catches sight of the same boy as before looking at him from the other side of the hall. He’s surprised for a moment, but offers a gentle smile. It isn’t returned, and the boy turns away quickly.

“Hey, mate—I’m Niall!”

All of a sudden, there’s a hand in Harry’s face and the blond boy is stood in front of him, grinning widely. Harry takes his outstretched hand and shakes it. “Harry.”

“I know; Ed was just telling me about being your tour guide. How are you findin’ it?”

“Different,” Harry offers nervously.

“Understandable.” Niall nods, sliding into the seat opposite. “Heard you were an Empty—that’ll make a big difference.”

Harry wonders how everyone knows that he’s an Empty—it’s the sort of information he thought would be kept private, but clearly it’s not much of a big deal.

“I’m a half, so I sort of get it,” Niall continues. “Sorta like everything isn’t real, right?”

This Irish-accented, enthusiastic boy has hit the nail on the head perfectly. “That’s exactly the way it is.”

Niall hums, shoving his hands in his pockets and sliding into the seat opposite. “Glad you’re cool—Zee and I were worried that we’d end up with a pretentious Full of some sort. Not that I’m against Fulls,” he adds hurriedly. “Some of them just think that they’re better than everyone else.”

Harry nods and hopes that he doesn’t come across any of those sort of ‘Fulls’; they sound like the type that might treat him differently for being an Empty. “Zee?” he then asks.

“Ah, right. Zayn—or Zee; he doesn’t mind too much—is my best mate. We share a room, and we’ve just found out that you’re the occupant of the third bed!” Niall’s smile is practically splitting his face in two, and Harry wonders if it hurts. He also thinks that he can see confetti canons firing right next to them as Niall announces this news like Harry’s won the best prize on a TV show. “It’ll be great—we can stay up late, eat food and talk about all sorts of stuff!”

Because Niall’s enthusiasm is incredibly contagious, Harry eventually feels like he can’t do much else but share it.

 

~*~

 

Ed has to leave Harry alone with one of the teachers straight after lunch, and he’s told that the older boy will be there to take him back to his room in a couple of hours. The room is silent when the door closes behind him, and it’s safe to say that Harry is scared shitless as he stands in the centre of a mostly empty office; the only furniture being a massive mahogany desk, the chairs either side of it and numerous bookshelves lining the walls, that are practically overflowing with books and other miscellaneous objects. Harry looks around for a moment, before the man he supposes he's here to meet up with enters the room, his appearance announced by a loud _whoosh!_  Harry decides to not even react to the fact that this person literally just came from nowhere, and just remains standing where he started, watching and waiting (albeit cautiously).

"Mr Styles, correct?"

Harry clears his throat. "Yes, sir."

"I'm Mr Hart. There's no need to be nervous, young Magic - I am simply here to just have a chat with you. Would you like to take a seat?"

Making sure to be especially careful and to not fall over, Harry slowly makes his way over to the chair by the desk, perching on the edge of it, back straight.

"So, Harry. I've heard that your mental is telekinesis."

Harry nods, a silent mantra of ' _please don't make me show you_ ' echoing around his mind.

"My sister's was telekinesis also—your type brings out quite the Magic."

Harry's almost tempted to answer with something along the lines of, 'so I've heard,' but the truth is, he hasn't. He doesn't know anything about his own power—let alone that of other Magics.

Probably noticing Harry's uncertainty of an answer, Mr Hart continues. "Of course, you know nothing of your physical yet, but you will be trained in each area, so everything isn't entirely new to you when your mark has appeared."

 _Mark?_ Harry hasn't heard anything of a mark, or a 'physical' or anything that anybody seems to assume he knows.

Almost as if he read Harry's mind—Harry wouldn’t be surprised if that was actually the case—the man speaks again. "I understand that this is a lot to take in, especially as you're an Empty, but I promise it'll get easier as you meet other Magics and make friends."

Harry nods slowly, hoping that Mr Hart's reassurance is true.

"Anyway," Mr Hart starts rooting around in a drawer in the desk. "Sorry, would you mind getting me that pen from the bookcase behind you?"

Harry turns to the said pen, and before he has to think, it's there in his hand, poised and ready to be written with. Eyes widening, he looks back at Mr Hart and sees the smile on the man's face.

"You were testing me, weren't you?" Harry questions.

"It's the better way of doing so. The way you were asked at the door was pretty unfair. Putting pressure on you will just make it harder at first."

Harry lets out an noncommittal _hmph_ and slumps in his chair. "It's not always that easy."

Mr Hart just continues to smile. "You have a lot of learning to do."

 

~*~

 

Conversation between Harry and Mr Hart lasts for what seems like a very long time, and Harry is partly relieved and partly disappointed when it's over. They spent most of the time discussing every element of the school—how it runs, what each subject entails and what extra clubs there are. As they approach the end of their talk however, Mr Hart's final question is the last thing Harry expected to be asked.

"One more thing—have you met your soulmate yet?"

Harry's heart leaps into his throat, and he tries to clear it. "Um...I suppose you don't really know for sure until it's confirmed, right?"

Mr Hart chuckles. "You'll know."

It's barely a minute after that when Harry's being shown out of the office and told to return if he thinks of any further questions. Ed is stood patiently outside the door, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels as he drums a rhythm with his fingers against the wall.

“Hope Mr Hart wasn’t too hard on you,” he comments as they walk out to the courtyard.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “He seemed lovely.”

“Woah,” Ed says, his voice with a lilt of surprise, “he’s a right git to the rest of us. Maybe it’s just the new students he likes.”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe.”

He can’t help but think of all the little anecdotes and stories Mr Hart had told him about his life and family—behaviour which would be unlikely to fall under the ‘git’ category. Perhaps he’s the sort of teacher who only gets on with certain types of students; Harry has a fleeting thought of whether the similarity between his and Mr Hart’s sister’s mental ability may be the cause of the difference.

“Anyway, here is where I’ve been told to leave you, I’m afraid,” Ed continues, gesturing to the courtyard surrounding them. “You can do what you want for the rest of the day—just make sure you’re downstairs for dinner, yeah?”

Harry nods, taking Ed’s outstretched hand and shaking it. “Thanks for showing me around.”

“No worries. Nice meeting you.”

Once Harry has returned the formality—willingly so, as it _has_ been nice to meet Ed, and to now have at least one familiar face throughout the school—Ed leaves, waving casually over his shoulder. Harry watches until he’s around the corner before wandering to the edge of the courtyard and perching on the edge of a wooden bench. He’s lacking things to do for three hours, and along with the fact that he knows he’ll still get lost going around the school (even with the map Mr Hart gave him), he eventually decides to retire to his room and await the presence of Zayn and Niall. The path back to his room is possibly the only one he does remember, so he covers it quickly and gently closes the door behind him when he gets there. Taking his phone from his bedside table, he sees that he has a text from his sister.

 

**From: Gemma**

_**H, I really don’t know what to say about what has happened, but I want you to know that I’ll be here for you no matter what. Whether you’re a Magic or not, you’re still my brother and I’ll always love you. Hope you enjoy your new school, and if anyone treats you like shit, you know where to send them! xxxxx** _

 

A weight immediately falls from Harry’s shoulders as he slumps on the edge of his bed, a small amount of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as relief from his sister’s acceptance falls over him like a warm embrace. It’s not half as comforting as one of Gemma’s actual hugs however, and there’s a sudden stab of homelessness in his heart at that thought alone.

Not much can be done about it though, he knows; there’s no way he can leave Muisar and go back to normal when everyone he cares about knows he’s a Magic. The only thing he can do is grin and bear it.

Although there may be a lack on the grinning side of things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I know it's a bit slow-starting, but what do you think? :)
> 
>  
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> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
> 
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> [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/101029565513/call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo-harry-louis-wip)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the wonderful responses I got from the first chapter, I am very much looking forward to posting this next one!!  
> There's not much else to say, other than I hope you enjoy!!  
> (Oh, and as you can see, I changed the title to just "Call It Magic" - I thought it was a bit better to be shorter :))

The door is thrown open so harshly that Harry startles out of the nap he wasn’t planning on having, and sits up as quickly as he can, his brain still a little bit asleep as he doesn't immediately twig on to who would be entering the room at this time.

“I swear to fucking _God_ , Zayn; if Mrs Potts tells me to turn into a teapot one more bloody time, I’ll—”

The blond boy Harry had met earlier at lunchtime— _Niall,_ he remembers—drops his bag onto the floor by the door and collapses backwards onto the bed next to Harry’s, his accent making some of the curses he’s using slur a little.

Harry looks back towards the door and sees who he hurriedly decides is one of the most attractive boys he’s ever seen. It's not as if Harry has got around to labeling himself with any sort of sexual orientation as of yet—he has a lack of experience in the male area, and he's not about to assume anything—but one thing he knows, is that he can appreciate attractiveness on anybody and, _God_ , this boy has got it. From his dark hair to his perfectly shiny shoes—and certainly not forgetting _that face_ —he is no doubt a god. 

“Zayn, right?” Harry asks, realising how he’s been creepily staring at the other boy for longer than what is considered normal.

The boy nods, the corners of his lips lifting in a kind smile. “And you’re Harry?”

Before Harry has chance to reply, Niall is jumping onto his bed and grinning widely when Harry looks at him. “We’ve got to take care of Harry, Zee. Stop him being killed by You Know Who and all that.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “And we’ve got to make sure _you_ don’t start throwing up slugs.”

“Hey! Why do I have to be Ron? Why can’t you be Ron?” Niall exclaims indignantly. There’s a small pause before he’s wiggling his eyebrows, and adding, “Besides, you _should_ be Ron...then we all know who can be Hermione!”

Zayn promptly hits him round the head with a pillow, resulting in the muffling of Niall’s laughter. “Dickhead.” Niall continues giggling, and Zayn frowns, looking like he wants to say something before he’s turning back to Harry. “Sorry about him—he’s just excited about dinner.”

Awaiting a response in protest to that statement, Harry’s a little surprised when Niall mellows and mumbles something about how hard it’s going to be to decide between the two main courses.

 

~*~

 

Dinner is an enjoyable affair, as Zayn and Niall are great company and keep conversation flowing well—especially Niall, who Harry’s sure has a book entitled something along the lines of ‘ _More Than One Hundred Questions to Ask an Acquaintance Until They’re Your Friend_ ’ hidden under the table cloth. On the other hand, Zayn remains on the quiet side, but expresses his sympathy and understanding when the topic falls onto Harry leaving home.

“I’m a Half—like Niall,” he explains, “but my Dad is the Magic, and I don’t see him much, so I had no prior knowledge really.”

“How did—? ” Harry stops himself before finishing his sentence, unsure as to whether his question will be welcome, but decides to continue when Zayn smiles encouragingly. "How did you find out?" 

Zayn’s eyes flicker to Niall’s for a second, and Harry catches the movement, looking between the two boys as if to ask, ‘ _is that not something I should’ve brought up?’_ No words are said however, as a shout of Zayn’s name rings across the hall, and said boy excuses himself quickly before striding between the tables to the end of the hall.

“We won’t be seeing him again tonight,” Niall comments before taking a loud slurp of milkshake through his straw.

“I haven’t offended him, have I?” Harry asks worriedly, looking between the boy opposite and the one about to leave the room.

Niall makes a dismissive gesture. “Nah. He’s just got something - or some _one_ , should I say - better to do than spend time with us."

Harry’s mouth opens to form a small ‘o’ in understanding when Niall smirks and wiggles his eyebrows before turning back to his second portion of lasagne.

By the time Harry’s looking in Zayn’s direction again, all he catches sight of is the double doors closing and hiding how Zayn’s hand is held tight in someone else’s.

 

~*~

 

Harry is quite relieved to read on his timetable that his first lesson of the day is something that he would class as being ‘normal’—Biology. He’s a few minutes early to the classroom, which proves to be helpful, as his teacher is already there and clearly has a lot to discuss with him. She goes over the application that his parents filled in, explaining how he’s lucky that Muisar is on the same exam board as his previous school, and he should be able to keep up just fine.

“Otherwise you’d have to stay back a year,” she says, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Harry shakes his head, only half-listening to what she’s going on about, and takes the pile of papers she hands to him at the end of her speech before making his way over to the desk he’s been assigned. The top sheet has a glaring title of ‘Exam Timetable’, which is enough to make Harry slightly nervous already.

The lesson runs smoothly though, and Harry finds it to be just like the Biology lessons at his old school. If there is going to be any sense of normalcy in this new life at all, he has a feeling it will all come from his academic subjects.

 

His second and third lessons—ICT and Maths—go just as well, and lunchtime comes around quickly. He didn’t make any plans with Niall to meet up, but the two of them had spoken about eating lunch together, so Harry heads straight to Gwidding Hall and hopes to bump into him on the way there.

Just as he sees the doors leading into the hall at the end of the corridor, he suddenly finds himself swept up in a mass of students, pushing and shoving to get their lunch, and Harry still hasn’t seen Niall yet. He stumbles over the threshold and lets the others hurry past him, leaving only one stood a few feet away from him. Harry looks up into the boy’s worried expression, and realises that it’s the same one whom he had made eye contact with a couple of times the previous day. Harry says nothing, but the other boy opens his mouth as if to ask a question before shaking his head and turning on his heel, making his way over to the food queue.

_Weird._

“Hey, Harry! Over here!”

Harry catches sight of Niall standing on his chair at the other end of the hall, waving his arms around madly before a teacher makes her way over to scold him. A soft chuckle leaves Harry’s lips as he wanders over, sitting down beside Zayn who is already tucking in to some sort of pasta dish.

“I know, Miss; sorry,” Niall is mumbling bashfully, looking down at the table.

“I hope to not see that kind of behaviour again, Mr Horan.”

Zayn snickers into his food as the teacher totters away again, and Niall rolls his eyes, mumbling something in a heavy accent again.

“Let’s go and queue up for food, Harry. I need it after that encounter,” Niall eventually says, quickly getting out of his seat and not looking to see if Harry’s following him.

 

~*~

 

There’s no one else waiting outside the classroom when Harry gets to his last lesson of the day and he finds the door to be locked, so he slips the heavy bag off his shoulder and leans against the wall, letting out a heavy sigh. He’s on his own for a good few minutes, so he uses that time to take in the surroundings of the Mental Abilities department. It’s much like the Academic area of the school, except there are portraits of famous Magics and diagrams of theories surrounding mentals littering the stone walls, and Harry spends some time reading the Hormonal Theory before someone is clearing their throat next to him.

“You don’t have to just hang around outside, you know.”

Harry turns to see a girl only a bit shorter than him, smiling shyly. “The door’s locked,” he explains.

“Mr Archer likes to test us. Watch.” The girl’s eyebrows furrow slightly before she moves her hand in front of her face and mumbles something in what sounds a bit like Latin. There’s a loud click and the door swings open. “Ta dah!”

Harry can’t help but smile in awe. “I forget some of the things that you Magics can do.”

“ _You Magics_ ,” the girl scoffs. “You make it sound like you’re not one. What’s your mental?”

As the two of them stand there discussing certain elements of their abilities, more students file into the classroom, and sit in their seats. Harry knows that he’ll probably have to wait until Mr Archer arrives to be assigned a seat, so he just stands near the doorway with the girl, chatting animatedly until a boy barges between them.

“Oh El, stop flirting with the new kid, will ya?”

The girl—Eleanor, as she had introduced herself earlier in the conversation—rolls her eyes and punches the boy in the arm. “Piss off, Lou.”

Harry doesn’t have much of a chance to take in the name before the boy is turning towards him, familiar eyes as blue as they had been in the bright lights of Gwidding Hall. Before either of them can speak however, Mr Archer is brushing past the three of them, waltzing over to his desk and gesturing for Harry to go over to him.

“Harry Styles, Empty-Magic, Telekinesis, correct?”

Harry blinks slowly before nodding.

“Over at the back, on one of the seats opposite Payne and Tomlinson. Oi, Tommo, show Harold to his seat, yeah?”

Just as Harry thinks about making the correction on his name, he notices Eleanor going back to her seat before the boy who interrupted them is turning towards him, his eyes narrowing before he salutes to Mr Archer. “Yes, sir.”

‘ _Lou_ ’ or ‘ _Tommo_ ’, or whatever his name is, is silent as he walks Harry over to the table and points at a chair before sitting down in the one diagonally opposite to it.

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” the other occupant of the table exclaims, holding out a hand for Harry to shake. “I’m Liam—oh, do you prefer Harold? I’m sorry, I—"

Harry can’t help but smile when he reaches over to take Liam’s hand. “S’just Harry. Nice to meet you, too.”

Not much else is said before Mr Archer is shouting out over the class, and everyone falls silent. The atmosphere in this classroom is very different to those that Harry had his academic subjects in; this one feels full of energy, yet completely cold. There’s a constant buzzing in the air, and it makes Harry’s skin tingle. He clenches his fists under the desk, praying that his telekinesis isn’t about to unwillingly make itself known. It certainly wouldn’t be a very good first impression if it was all thanks to him that random objects started moving around the room. He can’t wait for the day that he can actually learn how to control himself.

“So, if you’d like to work in groups on your tables, just do some refining. Try different things, and we’ll have a showcase at the end of the lesson.”

At those words, Harry looks across the table to Liam—who smiles—and then _‘Tommo’_ —who rolls his eyes and looks away again.

“Harry,” Liam starts tentatively, “would you like to go first?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, knowing that his honest answer to that question is no, but nods anyway. Deciding that standing wouldn’t be the best idea for the fact that his knees may buckle, he remains seated, and tries to get into the right mindset to show his ability correctly. When he feels as ready as he’ll ever be, he holds his hand out towards a textbook on the windowsill to the left of their table and pictures it moving into his hand. There’s no tingling in his fingers; barely a spark within him as he tries so hard his hand starts to shake and he instinctively folds his fingers into a fist before releasing them again.

“Fucking Empties—don’t know a thing.”

“Louis!”

Harry drops his arm, defeated and embarrassed, purposely stopping himself from looking in Louis’ direction. _At least there’s a name for the face now_ , he thinks as he drops his gaze to the tabletop.  

“I’m not so good at my ability on command,” he mumbles in a form of explanation, hoping that at least Liam can hear him.

“That’s okay,” Liam says softly. “That’s what these lessons are for, right?”

Harry glances up to give him a grateful smile, unable to get a word in before Louis’ pushing his chair back from the table and standing up.

“I’m going to work with people that know what they’re doing,” he announces.

Harry’s sure that there is little to no expression on his face other than hurt as he watches Louis’ retreating back. There’s also a flash of anger however, because _what right does Louis have to be such an arsehole already?_

“Sorry about Louis,” Liam’s saying. “He’s a bit... _dramatic_ at times.”

“I can tell,” Harry replies, and then he sees it: the same textbook from before flying towards Louis’ head.

_Shit._

With a quick flick of Harry’s head, the book is veering off course and lands on the ground at Louis’ feet. Harry doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath as he watches Louis bend down to pick it up, looking over his shoulder with dark eyes; the blue in them no longer that of a tranquil ocean—more a stormy sea. There’s no time for Harry to even blink before Louis is right in front of his face.

“You really need to be more careful,” he hisses, dropping the book on Harry’s hands before disappearing again.

 

~*~

 

“Aren’t you excited for your first Flight lesson, Harry?” Niall calls back over his shoulder, practically running ahead to the classroom as Harry trails behind.

“Is it so necessary to run?” Harry asks, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder while Niall almost crashes into the wall. An answer isn’t given to Harry’s question; just a simple cackle of laughter is heard and Niall has skidded around the corner out of sight.

Harry lets out a sigh as he follows him, rounding the corner at a normal pace and suddenly feeling someone crashing into his shoulder.

“Oh God, sorry,” Harry says, shifting his eyes to who he collided with and trying to ignore the drop of panic in his stomach as he sees that it’s Louis.

The other boy remains silent, simply watching Harry with his lips slightly parted and eyes wide.

“Why don’t you teleport to your lessons?” Harry blurts, immediately regretting it when he sees the look in Louis’ eyes. Instead of receiving the bitter response he was expecting however, Harry blinks and Louis has disappeared right in front of his eyes.

“That better for you, Styles?”

Harry turns around to the source of the voice, seeing Louis at the other end of the corridor with a smirk on his face. Before Harry can let out a sound, Louis’ gone again with a roll of his eyes. It’s a while before Harry moves again, as he remains staring at the spot Louis disappeared from for almost a minute, albeit slightly confused by the way Louis was acting. He’s broken out of his thoughts by Niall eagerly tugging on his arm, telling him that he can _‘ogle Tommo’s arse another time’_ and Harry doesn’t even bother arguing with him.

 

“So, as always we’ll be using a simple levitation spell to lift your partner off the ground, and then they’ll have to control their own actions to propel themselves around the room. Flyers—please avoid crashing into other people or objects, okay? After Miss Edwards’ performance last week, I don’t want to see another potted plant for the rest of my life.”

There’s a short round of chuckles that echoes around the room, and Harry notices a blonde-haired girl ducking her head in the middle of the large group stood to his left.

“Now, let’s get started!”

The words haven’t even fully left Miss Halshaw’s mouth when Niall grabs Harry’s arm and steers him to the back corner of the classroom, practically jumping up and down on the spot when they get there.

“Can I fly first? _Please?_ ” he asks eagerly.

Harry frowns. “You do know I’ve never cast a spell in my life, right?”

Niall’s heels fall to the floor and his smile drops in disappointment. “Hm, good point. It’s easy though—I’ll teach you!”

All of a sudden, Niall’s hands are moving Harry into an upright position, with one hand by his side and one reached out forwards.

“You won’t always have to use a hand; it just makes it easier at first to focus your energy on.”

Harry nods in understanding, and lets Niall tilt his chin upwards.

“Now,” Niall says gently, still holding a hand against Harry’s face, “you just need to focus on that hand and when I’m stood in front of you, say _levo_.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “I’m practising on you?”

“How else am I gonna fly?” Niall grins, moving so he’s a few feet in front of Harry, directly where the other boy’s hand is pointing. “Go on then.”

A feeling of dread settles in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he has a thought of how this might end if he fucks up. Niall seems to have some form of faith in him though, so he pushes those negatives to the back of his mind and focuses on getting the energy to his hands. He struggles to find the energy within him at first; searching through his body before he comes across a tingling just at the back of his knee. Pushing it up his thigh and across his torso, it slowly but surely reaches his wrist before surging into his hand when Harry mumbles, “ _Levo!_ ”

Nothing happens.

No sparks or flames leave his fingertips; no sound erupts through the room.

Harry looks forlornly down at the ground, until he realises that Niall’s feet are no longer there. His eyebrows shoot up into his fringe as he flicks his eyes upwards to where Niall is hovering a couple of metres above the ground with his hands resting across his stomach.

“Yer a wizard, Harry!” he announces dramatically.

Harry chuckles nervously, watching Niall rotate himself a little before taking a few steps in the air. “Please don’t sing the—”

_“We’re walking in the air!”_

 

~*~

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a go, mate—I always lose track of time when I’m flyin’.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s alright. I think it would’ve been too much for me to do a spell and fly in one lesson.”

Niall laughs. “I forget how new you are to all of this.”

“Why do we need flying lessons anyway?” Harry asks, not responding to Niall’s comment. “What use are they if you always need someone else with you?”

“Depends what physical you get,” Niall explains. “I really hope mine is Flight. _Fuck_ , if I get something boring like Strength, I’m asking for a refund.”

“Physical?” Harry remembers Mr Hart saying something about a physical but never actually explaining it. Like many of the things he’s heard around Muisar, it’s just another Magic term that makes him feel like a complete and utter Normal.

Niall lets out a huff of breath. “I’m gonna leave the explaining stuff to Zayn, ‘cause he does it much better than me,” he says. “If you talk to him, you’ll probably learn everything in under an hour—I’m sure.”

Just as Harry makes a mental note to talk to Zayn, he sees said boy walking around the corner in front of the two of them with... _Liam?_

“Li, you really need to stop stealing our third musketeer, you know?” Niall says, slapping a hand down on Liam’s shoulder. “How are we supposed to save the world without him?”

“I don’t think the three musketeers were out to save the world, Ni,” Zayn points out, leaning on Liam’s other shoulder.

Liam, without making any comment on musketeers of any sort, makes eye contact with Harry and smiles. “Harry! You alright?” he asks kindly, genuinely looking happy to see him.

Harry nods, returns the greeting and soon finds himself slotted in with the conversation.

So far, he must admit that he’s been surprised by the way most people (not including Louis Tomlinson it seems) have been very welcoming and have made him feel much more comfortable in the strange situation he’s found himself in. Of course, there’s still a lot of time for him to meet others who won’t be as nice to him, but he decides to not focus on that fact when he’s stood with three people who he could almost count as being his friends.

 

~*~

 

Over the weekend, Harry doesn’t really do a lot.

Zayn is never really anywhere to be found, and Niall spends a lot of his time outside playing football, so Harry decides to stay in the room and practice his telekinesis.

When his third pencil falls to the ground after no more than three seconds, he lets out a frustrated huff and wanders over to pick them up. The more he practices his mental, the more he realises that it’s a hundred times harder to get it right than it was to do the levitation spell the previous day. The spell took time to bring up the energy for, and granted took much longer to work, but at least it worked.

After frowning at the pile of stationery on his desk for another few seconds, Harry isolates a pencil, takes a few steps backwards and holds his hand out to it. The energy is in his elbow this time, and doesn’t take half as long to get to his wrist before he’s saying, _“Levo!”_ once again. Just as before, nothing happens for a good ten seconds or so, but just when Harry thinks the pencil is about to lift off the desk, it stays in exactly the same place. He can feel that there’s no energy in his fingers anymore, so he drops his hand in defeat and slumps down in the desk chair, deciding to do his Maths homework instead. (Which is, decidedly, not half as enjoyable—and that’s saying something.)

 

The bedroom door cracks open at around six-thirty, when Harry is now just reading, having eaten a feast of a dinner only an hour before. Harry looks up at the sound and smiles politely when he sees Zayn stood in the doorway.

“Hi, Zayn. What’s up?”

Zayn takes a few steps into the room and closes the door behind him gently. “I wanted to ask you something, actually.”

“Yeah?” Harry puts his book aside and sits up so he can look at the other boy properly.

“Would you like to come to art with me? No one else is ever there this late, and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Harry climbs out of bed and pulls a hoodie from the hooks on the back of the door. “Lead the way!”

 

The art room is fairly large, and must easily sit a class of at least thirty students when there’s a lesson. Right now, it’s completely empty however, and when Harry goes to turn on the main light, Zayn grabs his hand and stops him.

“Don’t need ‘em. Come over here.”

Still holding Harry’s hand—Harry feels a shock of warmth shooting up his arm at the contact; it’s been a long time since he last held hands with someone—Zayn leads him over to an easel set up by the window and flicks a few switches along the wall. In the next second, three lamps and a string of fairylights click on and Zayn falls into the nearest chair, dropping Harry’s hand in the process.

“I work best in low-light at this time,” Zayn explains as he sorts through the pencils and paintbrushes on the desk beside him. “I would have candles, if I were allowed.”

“Might not be the best idea with all of this paper lying around,” Harry muses.

Zayn grins. “Exactly what my teacher said.” He’s chosen a pencil now, and is carefully sketching something on the paper in front of him. “Niall said you wanted to talk to me about a few things,” he continues once a few lines are drawn.

Harry shrugs. “Just a few Magic-related things,” he mumbles, transfixed by the movement of lead on paper.

A soft chuckle breaks through Zayn’s pursed lips. “Oh the joys of not being a Full,” he says. “What do you wanna know?”

Harry opens his mouth to ask his first question, but then realises that he has no idea how to ask about any of the things he’s not understood over the past few days. Everything from Mr Hart’s comment on soulmates, to spells, and physicals—Harry wants to know it all, but has no idea where to start.

Taking a deep breath, he decides on, “What’s a physical?”

Zayn explains that a ‘physical’ is similar to a mental, except not everyone’s is unique. There are three possible physicals a person can have: Flight, Speed or Strength. They generally don’t develop until the later years of a Magic’s puberty, and there’s been no recorded cases of a physical ever making itself known in a Magic under the age of sixteen.

“Mr Hart mentioned something about a mark,” Harry says. “What did he mean by that?”

Zayn looks like he’s about to answer, but then he pulls a sheet of paper out of the drawer underneath the desk. “Just before a physical is confirmed, the Magic will have a mark somewhere on their body telling them what it’s going to be. For Strength”—Zayn pauses in his speech as he sketches something out on the sheet before showing it to Harry—“it’s a small lion. Everyone’s mark will be a different shape or size, but if their physical is Strength, it will always be a lion.”

Zayn continues to explain the other two marks for physicals, adding to the page a drawing of a Peregrine falcon (for Speed) and finally a swallow (for Flight). Harry runs his fingers over them when they’re finished, his fingertips hesitating over the wings of the swallow.

“Birds don’t even have eyebrows,” he mumbles, tracing its face.

There’s only a split-second of silence before Zayn lets out a much louder bark of laughter than his earlier chuckles. “Fuck; I owe Perrie a tenner.”

“What?”

Zayn shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “Doesn’t matter.” He turns back to his drawing, and starts shading something on the page before stopping and rooting around in the desk drawer. “Shit; I haven’t got my pencil sharpener. Would you mind having a look around for one for me?”

Just as Harry thinks about how his answer is going to be ‘of course’, a pencil sharpener appears in his hand. He looks at it in shock for a good few moments before Zayn snatches it out of his hand, sending a wink in his direction.

“And Liam told me you’re still adjusting to your mental,” he says as he starts sharpening the pencil.

“I _am_ ,” Harry groans, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his palms. “It just works sometimes; I don’t know.”

Zayn simply shrugs, holding a paintbrush between his teeth as he looks through the drawer again and pulls out a watercolour palette. He flips it open and runs his eyes across the colours before settling on a reddish-pink.

Harry bites his lip, unsure if this is unchartered territory or whether it’s just a good way of bringing up his next set of questions. “So you and Liam…”

“Don’t even go there.”

“But—”

“I may have to kill Niall for telling you whatever he’s told you,” Zayn says, “but you seem okay, so I guess I don’t mind you knowing. You can’t ask me about it though.”

Harry nods in understanding, slapping himself internally for being stupid enough to bring up a tender subject so early on in his and Zayn’s friendship (well, that's if they could even be counted as 'friends' yet).

They sit in companionable silence as Zayn adds some finishing touches to his art, only adding small amounts of colours in some of the spaces between pencil lines. When it must be nearing the end, he asks Harry to turn away for a couple of minutes—even though Harry hadn’t even been looking for a while anyway, in case Zayn wanted to keep it private.

“You can look now, Harry.”

Harry spins back around on his seat and looks at the picture Zayn has pinned to the easel. It’s a detailed sketch of Harry himself, looking somewhat pensive and thoughtful. The way Zayn has drawn his hair is incredibly in-depth—right down to the last curl—and there’s a dash of colour in his cheeks and the green of his eyes. What stands out the most to Harry though, is the swallow in profile above his head; also in stupid amounts of detail—right down to the straight eyebrow atop its eye.

Harry laughs. “I thought I said birds don’t have eyebrows.”

“Well, this one does.”

Zayn’s smile is warm as Harry explains his appreciation for the boy’s art, and—despite the fact that he didn’t get all of the answers he set out to get—Harry really hopes that this isn’t the last evening he spends with Zayn in the art room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/101195891793/truthtattoos-call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo)


	3. Chapter 3

The following Tuesday morning, Eleanor waves Harry over during breakfast, and invites him to join her and her friends for the meal before making their way over to History. Harry briefly looks back at where Niall, Zayn and Liam are sat together across the hall, and shrugs in their direction. They all smile and gesture for him to go for it, so Harry does, sitting between Eleanor and a girl who introduces herself as Sophia.

“So Harry,” another girl—Jade—says, “what do you think of Muisar so far?”

It’s a bit early for him to make a fully informed decision, but he smiles and says, “Yeah, it’s alright. Very different to what I’m used to, but good.”

“I bet the new lessons are a bit strange, huh?” Sophia adds.

Harry shrugs. “I’ve only had Flight and Mental Enhancement so far, but I’ve heard that I can take more on if I want in a few weeks.”

All of a sudden, all of the occupants of the table—including a couple that hadn’t even spoken yet—start asking him questions: what he might take up, whether he wants to take up a Magic career later on, et cetera, until Eleanor asks something he’s very intrigued by.

“What do you think about Soulmatery?”

Harry pauses in his attempt to answer the questions one by one, and thinks about how Mr Hart had asked about whether he’d found his soulmate not even a week ago. He’s always assumed it’s some sort of mythical thing—finding someone who is meant to be with you and loving them eternally—but maybe with Magics there’s more of a possibility of it being real. The idea of it is so wonderfully romantic to Harry, he has a strong urge to find out more.

“What’s Soulmatery?”

Eleanor grins. “Oh, it’s great. There's a class on Wednesday evenings; Zayn goes too—maybe you should ask him about it. He’s really invested in it.”

Harry decides then that Soulmatery will have to be the next thing he asks Zayn about.

“So you’re friends with Zayn, then?” Jade asks, looking thoroughly intrigued by the simplest fact.

“Harry rooms with him and Niall Horan,” Eleanor answers, her expression almost proud at knowing that fact.

Jade nods in understanding. “So he’s part of _that_ group then.”

Harry considers squeaking out a, _“I am here, you know,”_ but instead says, “That group?”

“Well, they’ve always been a group really; Liam, Zayn, Niall and Louis. And I guess you are part of it as well now!”

Harry frowns. “Louis?”

Since he’d arrived, Louis had never hung around with Harry and the other boys. Still, he had realised over the weekend that fate apparently gets a kick out of forcing him into situations where he has to see Louis; whether it’s in Gwidding Hall, or even in the corridors. Harry hasn’t got a big problem with the other boy—it just seems like Louis has a completely unreasonable problem with _him_ , which is, well. Annoying.

So far, he’s been lucky enough to not have to have spoken to Louis since the previous Friday when he saw him in the corridor, but because of Zayn’s... _thing_ with Liam, and Liam being best friends with Louis, Harry is starting to wonder if interaction outside of lessons will be inevitable.

Eleanor is frowning as Harry goes off on his Louis tangent of thought.

“Yes, Louis. Why do you sound so confused?”

“Louis doesn’t like me at all, I don’t think.”

Eleanor and Jade exchange a look but Sophia is the one to speak. “He is always a bit of a dick at first. I wouldn’t worry about it; you’ll see the good in him soon enough.”

Despite his hope that Sophia’s words may be true, Harry has strong doubts that they are.

~*~

“Zayn, what’s Soulmatery?”

Zayn pauses in his chewing and turns desperately to face Niall who shrugs with a noodle dangling from his lips. Harry, waiting patiently, takes a bite from his apple and continues to watch Zayn chew and swallow his food thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?”

“Eleanor was telling me about the other subjects you can choose once you’ve settled in,” Harry explains, confused a little by the boys’ reactions.

Zayn’s shoulders drop in what looks like relief before he speaks. “It’s, um, the study of soulmates. How they work and all that.”

Before Harry has chance to a comment, a familiar voice is exclaiming, “Good afternoon, lads!” and Liam sits down opposite him at the table. While Harry and Niall welcome the newcomer warmly, Zayn’s greeting is mumbled, and Harry turns to see him looking down at the table, his ears gaining a slight pinkish hue.

“Are you looking forward to Mental Enhancement?” Liam asks Harry.

Harry shrugs. “Not really,” he replies honestly. “I think my mental may not be my kind of pal.”

As Liam starts to chuckle and explain that things should start improving for him soon, Harry’s attention is caught by the appearance of Louis, who stands behind Liam with an expressionless look on his face.

“Liam, I need to sort something out with footie later. Can you tell Mr Archer I’ll be late?”

Liam, having paused in his speaking when Louis interrupted, turns around to face the other boy calmly. “Alright, Lou; I’ll tell him.”

“Cheers.” Louis turns to leave, but Niall stops him.

“Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

Louis slowly looks back, scanning his eyes over each occupant at the table before finally landing on Harry. “I’m alright, thanks.” He then completely disappears from view, and Harry feels a drop in his stomach as Sophia’s words from that morning echo in his mind.

“Why is Louis so… iffy with me, Liam?” he asks, pleading with his eyes for Liam to give him an honest answer.

“Iffy?” Liam says cautiously, looking between Harry and the other two boys.

“I mean, does he have a problem with me, or something? Have I upset him, or said something I shouldn’t, or…?”

Liam shifts awkwardly in his seat and looks between Niall and Zayn before answering. “Right. Well, you see Harry, Louis’ a—"

“…bit of a dick sometimes?”

“Niall,” Zayn scolds with what sounds like a kick under the table. “Let Liam explain.”

Liam smiles gratefully. “So, Louis’ a Full-Magic. It means that both of his parents are Magics, and in some cases, they bring their children up in a, um…” he trails off slightly, clearly trying to find the right words, “...completely Magic atmosphere. Because of the surroundings Louis has grown up in, his instincts are much closer to those of the original Magics. One of these instincts is to be cautious of people who have any Normal blood in them.”

“So because I’m an,” Harry raises his hands in air-quotes, “‘Empty’, Louis is scared of me?”

“Not so much _scared_ ,” Liam counters, “more...basically, he won’t want to touch you with a barge pole.”

Niall chokes on his noodles.

“Bad choice of words, Liam,” Zayn says, shaking his head and laughing.

Liam starts slapping Niall on the back, looking like a confused puppy with the way that his eyebrows are furrowed together.

“ _Barge pole,_ ” Niall says between cackles once he’s recovered. “Jesus Christ.”

The topic of Louis is essentially forgotten for the rest of lunchtime, due to the incessant laughter and penis jokes from Niall, but Harry still doesn’t feel much better about it—even with knowing the reason why Louis is like he is. Of course, there’s nothing Harry can do about the Normal blood in his veins, but he just wants there to be something he can do to get Louis to at least talk to him, without making any pre-judgements. He has a feeling that it’s not going to be easy.

~*~

“Should I go first today, Harry?” Liam asks kindly once Mr Archer has given them permission to start practicing.

Harry nods and smiles gratefully for Liam’s consideration. Liam doesn’t stand or change his position in any way; he just sits and looks at Harry, eyebrows raised. While Liam prepares himself to use his Mental, Harry’s mind helplessly drifts to Louis again. He wonders what Louis’ like as a friend - whether he’s really as much of a dick as he seems, or whether he’s actually nice, or caring, or funny, or...

“You really need to stop worrying about Louis, you know.”

Harry freezes. “No...I wasn’t. I’m not.”

“I’m assuming Zayn hasn’t told you my Mental, has he?” Liam grins, rolling a pencil between his fingers.

“No…” Harry shakes his head. “Should he have done?”

Instead of answering, Liam pushes his pencil case across the table in Harry’s direction. “Pick a colour out of there, but don’t tell me which one.”

Harry roots through the stationery and decides on a nice greyish-blue before zipping up the pencil case and handing it back. “Done.”

“The colour of Louis’ eyes,” Liam says straight away, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile on his face.

“Piss off; no it wasn’t. Louis’ eyes are...brown.”

“You’re a shit liar.”

Just as Harry’s ready to protest, Louis appears right beside them and slides into the seat next to Liam. He looks fairly pissed off already.

“This is the last thing I feel like doing right now,” he grumbles, resting his chin in his palms.

“What’s up, Lou?” Liam asks gently, genuine concern covering his features.

Louis lets out a heavy sigh and brushes a hand back through his hair. He then speaks at a low volume which gives Harry the idea that it’s not something for him to be listening to, so he stands and places a handful of pencils on the windowsill near their table to practice his telekinesis. When he’s got a pencil right to the edge of the sill, about to fall, he hears Louis whine:

“You know it makes me uncomfortable.”

Liam sighs. “Yes, I do know that, but I also know who you are, and this isn’t you.”

Harry doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but even so, Louis’ next words are undetectable, and before Harry knows it, a pencil is suddenly flying out of his control and falling to the floor, before rolling across to the table leg nearest Louis’ feet. Harry bashfully bends down to retrieve it, and as he straightens up, he notices Louis’ eyes on him and holds his gaze for mere seconds before Louis is announcing:

“I think I’m going to work with Eleanor today.”

Harry tries not to let his hurt expression appear too obvious as Louis once again disappears right in front of his eyes.

~*~

****  
  


After his Mental Enhancement lesson on the Tuesday, the only unfamiliar subject remaining for the week is Flight—yet again on the Friday afternoon.

Niall drags him down the corridor, tugging at the sleeve of his jumper—which, as soon as he found out he was allowed, Harry’s been wearing in an attempt to block out the wintery draught the old building holds—and chattering cheerfully about how exciting it will be for Harry to have his chance at levitation. Harry is nowhere near as enthusiastic. In fact, the idea of his feet leaving the ground for longer than fractions of seconds is pretty terrifying to him. He’s not exactly the most graceful person out there - he’s been compared to a baby giraffe numerous times during his life, so he has a feeling that he’s not going to be much better when levitated.

Miss Halshaw’s speech is even shorter this week, and it feels like hardly any time at all has passed before Niall is pulling Harry over to the corner once again and telling him to stand near the wall.

“Is that a good idea? You didn’t start near the wall last week,” Harry points out, his stomach jumping and plummeting in waves as nerves overcome him thoroughly.

“Calm down; I’m only suggesting it so you have something there to support you if you need it,” Niall reassures.

“So I won’t crash or anything?” Harry asks warily.

Niall shakes his head. “Of course not. If I think you’re going to, I’ll help you out of it anyway.”

Harry nods and swallows nervously. The concept of his feet leaving the ground certainly doesn’t appeal to him at this moment in time, but surely it will be an enjoyable experience _really_ …he hopes.

“You ready?” Niall’s voice is soft and strangely comforting.

After taking a deep breath, Harry nods and stands with his back facing the wall, watching as Niall takes a few steps backwards with a grin on his face.

It takes hardly any time at all for Niall to muster up the power—compared to the long minutes it takes Harry to do so—before he’s saying, “ _Levo!_ ” and Harry feels a weird bubbling in his stomach. He barely has any time at all to think about it however, because he then feels the heels of his feet moving up from the ground. The toes of his shoes brush against the floor briefly and then he’s up; away from the ground completely, with the only thing close enough to touch being the wall.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, feeling the muscles in his arms and legs tense up in surprise at the new sensation of being weightless.

“It’s pretty brilliant, ain’t it?” Niall says, a large grin on his face as he watches Harry’s reactions.

Harry's mouth opens and closes like that of a fish as he keeps moving upwards, closer and closer to the ceiling.

Eventually, as he decides that he can see way too much detail in the chipboard above him, he chokes out, “I want to come back down.”

Niall’s eyebrows furrow together, and he looks genuinely confused. “Are you sure?”

Taking a deep breath, Harry tries to calm himself down and actual take in what he’s doing.

He’s actually flying, is the thing.

He’s doing something that so many people have always dreamed of being able to do; ever since their parents read them stories of magical people and creatures when they were young. It’s surreal really, how he’s now part of a world that sees this sort of thing as being normal.

With that thought in mind, he takes another sharp breath in, looks down at Niall and shakes his head, a shaky smile tilting his lips.

Niall grins and gives him a thumbs up, moving his head to the right a little when he sees Harry drifting slightly closer to the wall.

“You can move around if you want,” he suggests.

Harry bites his lips and contemplates how he would even go about doing that considering it feels like all of his joints and muscles have locked into place.  

“...Or stay in one place, that’s fine too,” Niall continues.

Considering his answer for only a moment longer, Harry asks, “Can I just go a bit lower?”

Niall shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

Harry’s eyes move down to his feet, and—after great concentration to avoid looking straight down and having absurd thoughts about falling—he takes a step forward in the air, moving downwards as if he were descending a staircase. It feels strange, and he gets that similar drop in his stomach that one may get when they're climbing the stairs in the dark and think there's one more step than there actually is.  

"That's it; keep going!" Niall cheers and Harry smiles cautiously in response before taking another few steps down, soon finding himself a good couple of feet further away from the ceiling, and therefore at a more comfortable distance from the ground.

“You feeling better now?” Niall asks, still watching Harry’s every move; every shaky breath, every curious stretch of limbs.

“I think so,” Harry replies, only just loud enough for Niall to hear. “It’s definitely...strange.”

Niall chuckles. “You get used to it eventually.”

And, like every other time Harry has heard that phrase since he arrived at Muisar, Harry is slowly starting to believe it.

~*~

The following evening, Harry joins Zayn in the art room once again; this time along with Liam and Niall. Harry doesn’t say much from where he’s leant back against the wall, watching Zayn furrow his eyebrows in concentration, and then smile gratefully whenever Liam hands him something. Niall is the one who is doing all of the talking, telling the boys about what happened when two of the boys in his PE class started fighting over something in fourth period. Just as he goes onto how they pushed each other over into the mud on the field, Harry notices Liam whispering something to Zayn before they both erupt into giggles.

Despite having only known the two boys for just over a week, Harry can't help but be somewhat confused about the dynamic of their relationship. One minute they’re all bashful and shy around one another, and the next they’re laughing and joking together like they understand one another on a level that Harry and Niall will never get. Then there’s a whole other part of their relationship that Harry knows nothing about—and has a feeling will remain secret for quite some time.

“God, are you two even listening? Harry and I are quite disgusted, you know,” Niall suddenly says, causing the other two boys to pull apart, Zayn rolling his eyes and going back to his painting and Liam looking down shyly.

Once Niall has finished his story and appears to be waiting expectantly for another topic of conversation to arise, Harry quickly asks, “What’s your mental, Niall?”

Harry is quite surprised that the topic of Niall’s mental ability has not yet come up, and along with the fact that he only has assumptions of what Liam’s may be and has no idea of Zayn’s either, he has a thought that maybe it’s not important to Magics whether they know what others are capable of doing.

Instead of outright answering, Niall just winks and then disappears from view. Before Harry has chance to make a suggestion, Niall comes back and jerks his head in Zayn’s direction. By the time Harry’s looked, Zayn’s gone too.

“They don’t have the same ability,” Liam adds, grinning at Harry’s confused expression.

Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Harry groans, “You’re all ganging up on me, aren’t you?”

Niall laughs and goes again, and—oddly enough—a lone pencil appears on the surface of the seat he’d previously been sat on.

_So, does he just make pencils from thin air or something?_

Liam chuckles. “Not quite.”

Now, Harry knows for sure that he didn’t ponder that one aloud, so if he’s got anything right, it’s his assumption of Liam’s mental. Something tells him that knowing someone who’s telepathic will either be really handy, or really quite annoying.

“I reckon you’ve just given yourself away, Li,” Zayn’s voice says from somewhere in the room, and Harry turns to look in all directions before realising that Zayn’s still invisible.

_Ah, invisible._

“Thinks he’s got yours as well, Zayn,” Liam replies, a grin on his face as he nods encouragingly at Harry.

Zayn reappears next to Liam and sighs. “Why is it always Niall’s that everyone struggles to get?”

“That’s probably because I’m awesome,” a voice replies, and—even though it’s a strange suggestion—Harry’s certain that the voice has just come from the pencil on the chair.

“Harry’s got it, Niall,” Liam says, and Harry’s eyes widen as he watches the pencil suddenly disappear, leaving Niall in its place. He hadn’t thought that his idea could possibly be right.

Niall grins again. “You got it quicker than most! Pretty cool, innit?”

Harry nods truthfully and looks between each of the boys, yet again surprised by how surreal his new life is. When he woke up on the fateful day that he discovered his ability, he never expected to end up here; surrounded by people who can disappear, hear other people’s thoughts and turn into miscellaneous objects.

He sometimes still wonders if he’s just stuck in an incredibly long, extremely detailed dream of sorts.

~*~

The first time Louis sits with them at lunch, it’s a Wednesday.

Harry’s just had a music lesson which involved composing something for about fifty-five minutes, and then deleting it in the final five, so it’s fair to say that he isn’t in the best kind of mood. He’s never been one to really take out his emotions on other people though, so he remains mostly quiet and just eats his lunch slowly, listening to the stories his friends have to tell from their day so far.

“Have you heard anything from Liam, Zayn?” Niall asks curiously when almost ten minutes have passed and the final member of their group has not yet arrived.

Zayn shrugs. “He didn’t say anything about being late to lunch this morning... Maybe I should text him.”

Just as Zayn ducks under the table to retrieve his phone from his bag, Niall appears to be looking around the room before he says, “No need,” and points his fork to the back of the hall, where Liam is stood very close to someone who has their head ducked down. After only a moment of looking, Harry sees Liam’s shoulders drop in a heavy sigh before he turns on his heel and makes his way over to their table.

“Hey, Li—you alright?” Niall asks as he moves his folder out of the seat next to him and gestures for him to sit down.

Liam plops down and rests his chin on his palms. “Yeah, Louis’ just being a bit...difficult.”

_Oh._

Harry looks back over to the end of the hall, and sees Louis stood in the same place as before, but now he has his head lifted, and is already looking in their table’s direction. Harry meets his eyes, and after a pause, smiles hesitantly. God knows why, but even in his slightly negative mood, there’s still a distant part of him that wants to do what he can to make others feel better - and in this case, it’s Louis.

Louis’ return expression is definite confusion, and moments later he turns away, focusing his gaze on the ground once again. Harry’s faint smile turns into a frown, and just as he goes to turn away, Louis appears much closer this time, his closed lips tilted in something that could almost be classed as a smile.

“Louis! Do you wanna join us?” Niall greets.

Once his eyes are on Niall, Louis smiles properly. “Sure.” Then, all of a sudden, he’s stumbling forward a little and grabbing onto the table for support. He looks over his shoulder, turns back again and looks, wide-eyed at Harry. “Thanks.”

Confused as to what Louis is thanking him for, Harry leans slightly to his left to peek around Louis and sees a chair conveniently placed for Louis to sit down and pull up at the end of the table.

_Did he move that there?_

“And here was me thinking you didn’t know how to use your mental,” Louis comments as he takes a seat.

Harry shrugs and mumbles, “Don’t worry, I thought the same.”

Louis chuckles and no more is said as he’s pulled into a conversation with Niall regarding football.

Harry remains mostly silent for the rest of lunch, confusion and surprise set within him as he constantly tries to hold himself back from looking at Louis out of the corner of his eye.

~*~

Louis continues to eat with the boys for every meal of the day from then on—apart from lunchtimes when he has football—and every single day there is a conversation between him and Harry that is as brief as about five sentences at most. Harry isn’t sure whether it means that Louis is actually interested in trying to get along with him, or whether he’s just putting up with him so he can hang around with his friends again. Either way, Harry still wishes that he could talk to Louis more.

He’s given the chance when he receives a text from Liam on a Tuesday morning.

**From: Liam**

_**Sorry but i dont think ill make it to men en today, feeling suuper shitty :((** _

To Harry, not only does this mean almost definite interaction with Louis, it also means that he’ll probably have a very quiet Mental Enhancement lesson. He probably won’t get a lot done either, because it’s definitely been Liam’s calming presence that has been helping him improve over the past few weeks and he knows that Louis isn’t quite as understanding when it comes to Harry’s mishaps.

Louis had been spending most of the Mental Enhancement lessons sat at Eleanor’s table, but when he started joining the others for meals and such, he quickly returned to Harry and Liam. He still barely talks to Harry in the lessons unless entirely necessary—but without Liam, it may be one of those ‘entirely necessary’ situations.

Louis is late into Mr Archer’s classroom, and the class has started by the time he arrives. Mr Archer himself just sighs and gestures for Louis to come in and sit down, so Louis does as he’s told. Harry watches as he makes his way over to his table and carefully slides into the seat opposite Harry’s, which is normally Liam’s.

“Hi,” he mouths, smiling what Harry would definitely class as a genuine smile. Genuine enough, in fact, for him to jerk in surprise and consequently knock his open pencilcase onto the ground, scattering pens and pencils all over the wooden floor.

“Oops,” he whispers, and Louis laughs softly before reaching over to help Harry with picking them up.

Mr Archer finishes speaking fairly quickly, as usual, so it isn’t long until the classroom is filled with chatter as students stand up from their tables and start practicing their abilities.

“So, do you wanna go first?”

The question comes out of each boy’s mouth simultaneously, their voices weakening as they realise. Harry shyly looks down at the table and shrugs.

Mere seconds later, there’s a presence beside him, and he looks up once again to see Louis now sat beside him, a grin brightening his features.

“I’m trying to develop this new thing with my teleportation—do you wanna help?”

Surprised by what is definitely a significant change from Louis, Harry nods slowly, partly expecting Louis to be plotting something to make him look foolish.

“Well, there are two things I’m trying at the moment, but Mr Archer doesn’t like one of them because it involves me leaving the room, so we’ll try the other.”

Louis explains that all Harry needs to do is use a levitation spell on Louis and he’ll do what he has to do from there. There’s an immediate drop in Harry’s stomach as he yet again panics about messing up completely, but he barely has time to take that in before Louis is dragging him away from the table and telling him to go for it.

“Niall says you were fine when you helped him in Flight the other week,” Louis says, watching as Harry gets into the stance he requires for it to work. “He says you’re a natural.”

“I highly doubt that,” Harry mumbles, his knee jolting as he finds the energy at the back of it once again. As usual, he pushes it up through his body, towards his hand and finally out of his fingertips as he says, “ _Levo!_ ”

Louis is quicker up in the air than Niall, and Harry’s hand almost feels lighter where it is held in the air; as if Louis’ slightly smaller mass is having an effect on the power itself. Either way, Louis is practically climbing the air as he moves his hands and feet up and down to propel himself closer to the ceiling.

“Not too high, Louis,” Mr Archer’s booming voice warns across the classroom, making a few of the other students turn away from what they’re doing and look. Harry thinks he can hear Louis mumbling something negative about that fact, but then he’s gone for a split second before he’s reappearing at the opposite end of the classroom, still levitated—but not for long.  

Harry’s heart is in his throat as he stands frozen in one place, watching Louis fall down from the high ceiling, approaching the ground at a rapid pace. At the last moment, Harry scrunches his eyes shut and holds his breath, expecting to hear the thud of Louis’ body hitting solid ground.

Instead, there’s a lengthy pause before there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder and a similarly gentle voice murmuring, “Are you alright?”

Harry’s eyes fly open once more, and he takes in Louis standing in front of him, concerned expression adorning his features.

“You...you…”

“No one ever likes helping me with that,” Louis says when Harry struggles to get any words out. “I suppose it’s a bit scary when it doesn’t work properly, right?”

Harry nods fiercely, his heart still hammering where it’s fallen back to its rightful place in his chest.

“Liam never lets me do it when he’s here.”

Harry can definitely understand that. The moment when he thought that Louis was falling and about to hit the ground right there in front of him had terrified him. Despite Louis’ mostly negative views towards Harry because of the whole Empty-Full thing, in this one lesson alone, Harry has learnt that Louis is most certainly capable of actually being nice to him. In fact, Harry can almost see himself being friends with _this_ Louis, but how does he know that this Louis will stick around? Is he only  being like this because Liam isn’t here and he has no other choice?

Harry decides to not get his hopes up at the prospect of Louis not worrying about their differences anymore, because if the cautious side of him is right, it’s just better to not be disappointed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
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> [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/101619446738/truthtattoos-call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry it's been so long - I've been a bit busy recently, and have struggled to find time to write. 
> 
> I'm desperate to upload this now, so I haven't had a proper read though yet, I'm afraid. This means that any mistakes are mine, and I will hopefully sort them out tomorrow :)

 

 

 

“Happy One Month!”

The sound of Niall’s extremely loud greeting startles Harry out of sleep, and he quickly shuffles a bit further up the bed so his roommate isn’t _quite_ so in his face.

When his thoughts are a bit more in order, he asks, “What do you mean, Happy One Month?”

Niall jumps up and down on his knees. “You’ve been here over a month now, Harry, so we want to celebrate!” He pauses in his jumping and hops off the bed. “Anyway, we’re meeting Liam and Louis in the hall at about eight, so do you reckon you’ll be ready for then?”

Harry turns to look at the clock on his bedside table and sees that it’s around ten-to. “Niall, that’s ten minutes away.”

“Yup!”

Niall then proceeds to skip out of the room, and after Zayn **—** who has been stood silently on Harry’s other side the whole time **—** has also wished Harry a ‘Happy One Month’ with a small smile, he does the same.

After quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a loose jumper that is doing a good job of holding the scent of home in its wool, Harry checks his hair in the mirror before leaving and locking the door behind him.

 

 

The boys are sat at their normal table in Gwidding Hall, and Harry spots them immediately **—** especially when Niall decides it's a good idea to start yelling a beautiful rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ (with ‘Birthday’ swapped for ‘One Month’) across the room. Liam shushes him after a moment, and Harry smiles gratefully in his direction as he sits down.

It’s then that Harry realises that Louis isn’t sat with them, so of course he asks about it **—** and definitely doesn’t miss the look exchanged between Liam and Zayn.

“He’s awful to get out of bed at the weekends,” Liam explains. “We should see him later though.”

Harry nods slowly, hoping that his disappointment doesn’t come across too obviously. He was hoping that after his and Louis’ interactions during their last Mental Enhancement lesson, things would be even better between them **—** but then again, Harry doesn’t want to be one to make assumptions, so maybe Louis is still asleep after all.

“Presents!” Niall suddenly exclaims, and all of a sudden, three packages of different shapes and sizes are on the table in front of Harry.

The closest one to him is the one he selects first; it’s a piece of thick, cream-coloured paper that has been rolled into a scroll and tied with an aquamarine ribbon. Tied to the ribbon is a label which reads,

_‘Happy One Month!_

_Zayn’._

Harry unrolls it carefully, his smile growing as he realises what it is. It's the picture that Zayn painted the other night in the art room, but with more colour and shading, and the addition of another bird above his head **—** this one slightly smaller, and yet again with an eyebrow, but a more curved one. Despite their differences, the birds look like they belong beside one another **;** Harry isn't sure how, but it's like the artwork is now complete with the presence of just one small bird.

Harry drags his eyes away from the paper to look up at Zayn and smile gratefully. "This is absolutely brilliant, Zayn. Thank you."

Zayn shrugs, a humble smile appearing on his face. "It's nothing, really."

Before Harry can tell him how it really is something, Niall is exclaiming, "Mine next! Mine next!"

It's clear which out of the two remaining presents is the one from Niall; it's a long rectangular box wrapped in shiny green paper that has: ' _Can’t believe it’s only been a month, buddy!! From Niall'_ written on top in black Sharpie.

Harry pulls off the paper, and the box underneath is a silvery-grey colour, with ‘ _Nialler’s’ etched_ into the top. After a curious glance up at Niall **—** during which he sees the Irish lad literally jumping up and down in his seat **—** he carefully removes the lid and finds, nestled in amongst some lilac tissue paper, what is most definitely a wand.

“Yer a proper wizard now, Harry!” Niall jokes.

“How did you even know how to make one of these?” Harry asks, thoroughly amazed by the gift.

Niall scoffs. “No need to sound so surprised. My mate who does woodwork showed me how to make them, so I thought it would be a good present for ya.”

Harry grins. “It really is. Thanks, Ni.”

The final present on the table is wrapped in classic birthday wrapping paper, with rainbow coloured balloons and birthday greetings covering the surface of it in an extremely cheery manner, which makes Harry smile.

“I hope it’s okay for you, Harry,” Liam is saying as Harry removes the paper. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

It’s a book; hardback, with ‘ _The History of Telekinesis’_ written on the front in golden script. Harry is immediately intrigued; eager to start learning more about his mental as soon as possible, but also slightly threatened by the mere magnitude of the text in from.

Before Harry has the chance to thank Liam for the gift however, the school bell **—** which annoyingly isn’t deactivated at the weekend, making lie-ins very rare **—** rings and interrupts the conversation, and by the time it has finished, Niall has jumped out of his seat and is announcing that they will be leaving immediately.

“Leaving? Leaving where?” Harry asks, looking between each of them in confusion.

“ _We_ **—** all of us **—** are going somewhere to celebrate your One Month!” Liam explains.

Harry shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

After bounding quickly over, Niall grabs both of Harry’s arms and pulls him out of his seat. “It’s not optional, I’m afraid. Now go and put your stuff in your room and we’ll meet you in the courtyard in a minute.”

Still slightly surprised by how much of a big deal the boys are making, Harry follows Niall’s orders and scuttles out of the room.

Harry rushes back to his room with his arms still full of presents, eagerly awaiting putting them down after lugging them around with him all the way from the hall.  When the lock finally clicks and he can kick the door open, he’s rushing in, dumping everything on top of his dresser and then turning to see yet another wrapped gift lying on his bed. On top of it is a small piece of white card, which Harry curiously turns over in his hand to read the handwritten message there:

_Hi Harry,_

_I hope you’ve had a nice day so far! Sorry I wasn’t at breakfast, I’m sure Liam told you why I couldn’t make it._

_Louis._

With a frown seemingly permanent on his forehead, Harry pulls the paper away from the gift to reveal a navy blue scarf that is soft to the touch and **—** in Harry’s opinion **—** absolutely beautiful. Scarves have never been the sort of thing he’d wear often, but there’s something about it that immediately makes him fall in love with it. Now he’s completely confused; receiving a present from Louis was strange enough, but one as lovely as this? Sure, Harry had seen a nice side to the other boy in that one Mental Enhancement lesson the previous Tuesday, but he certainly wasn’t expecting Louis’ previous negativity to dissipate quite so quickly.

“Harry, are you **—**?” Niall pauses in the doorway and is looking pointedly at the material in Harry’s hands. “What’s that?”

Harry quickly drops the scarf back on top of the wrapping paper and grins. “Nothing. You ready?”

Niall nods quickly, and Harry is grateful for his dismissal. “Yeah **—** just came here to get you.”

“Okay, um, can I meet you there in a minute?”

“Sure.”

Niall leaves almost as quickly as he arrived, and as soon as Harry hears the door click shut, he gathers the scarf and note and shoves them both into the top drawer of his dresser before putting the wrapping paper in the bin.

 

~*~

 

“I wish we could do something a bit more interesting,” Niall mumbles, dragging his feet as he walks with the other boys over to the forest at the back of the school grounds.

Liam huffs. “You always say that when we go to the treehouse.”

“And yet, you’re the one who never wants to leave,” Zayn adds knowingly.

Harry’ legs are starting to ache a little; the forest is on top of a hill that seems to stretch on forever, and he had no idea that the school grounds were even this big **—** if they’re even still in the grounds.

“Of course we are,” Niall replies when he asks. “We’re not allowed to leave the grounds.”

“What, never?”

Liam shakes his head. “Never. Unless it’s an emergency and you’ve gained complete permission from the headmistress.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

Zayn shrugs. “It would be pretty dangerous, don’t you think? Word gets around **—** it’s surprising how quickly everyone knows of a new Magic.”

Harry frowns, but does understand; he wouldn’t want to leave and be recognised by a Normal. He dreads to think what would happen to him.

“Well, here we are!” Liam exclaims, stepping aside to reveal a rope ladder running up the side of a tree.  Harry follows it with his eyes and his eyes widen when he sees the large treehouse nestled above in the branches. He’s never seen one that looks so _perfect._

Niall is halfway up the ladder when he calls over his shoulder, “Come on, Harry!”

Harry carefully starts to climb, his grip tightening on the rungs as the rope swings back-and-forth a little. He makes it to the top in one piece however, and his eyes widen in amazement as he looks through the door that Niall has held wide open for him.

This treehouse is nothing like the one his old school friend had in his back garden **—** in fact, this is more of a tree _mansion_ (well, that’s what Harry would call it, anyway). There’s an area over to the left where a large leather corner sofa sits, along with a recliner chair and another small sofa, all of which are surrounding a large, flat-screen TV with numerous game consoles and DVDs sitting underneath. To the right is a small kitchen and dining area, and Harry’s sure that through the crack of the slightly open door straight ahead, he can see a _bathroom._

“This isn’t anything like a Normal treehouse.”

Niall scoffs. “A _Normal_ treehouse? Get this one, talking like a Magic already and it’s only just been over a month.”

Harry shrugs and takes a tentative step further inside, amazed by not only how this small wooden building held in the branches of a tree can have a fully functioning kitchen and bathroom, but also how the boys don’t just _live here._

“Trust me, we would if we could,” Liam says, suddenly appearing from nowhere. (Not literally of course; apparently he and Harry are the only ones who _can’t_ do that.)

“I just don’t understand how **—** ” 

“If I’ve learnt anything from living the life of a Magic, Harry,” Zayn interjects, “it’s to not bother with asking questions. Just roll with it.”

So Harry does.

(And has possibly one of the best days of his life by doing so.)

 

 

The boys must’ve put in a special request for Harry’s One Month, because at about four-thirty that evening, there’s a knock on the treehouse door, and Niall returns to the rest of the boys with five pizza boxes. The food quietens the four of them down at first, especially considering they hadn’t eaten much since breakfast **—** apart from some snacks Niall had pulled out of the cupboard **—** but eventually Niall breaks it by telling the story of his One Month.

Apparently in a lot of Magic families, there is a celebration of the time a new member of the Magic community has spent with them. That is why Harry is now having his One Month, and next will be his Year, then Two Year, and so on. The boys have always done it in their small group of friends, mainly because it’s part of Louis’ family traditions.

_Speaking of which…_

“I don’t know why he isn’t here yet,” Liam says softly, speaking only to Harry as Niall continues the telling of his story to Zayn. “I told him where we’d be. I really hope he’s not still being a dick to you, Harry. I thought with him eating with us now, things would improve, but **—** ”

“Knock-knock.”

Harry only looks at Liam for a moment longer before turning to face Louis, who is stood in the doorway with a soft smile on his face.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Liam replies as Niall jumps up and wraps Louis in a hug, asking him if he wants some pizza.

“Sure, if you’ve got enough.”

Niall shoves a whole box into Louis’ hands before plopping back down beside Zayn on the sofa, leaving Louis’ only options to be the armchair, or next to Harry on the smaller sofa.

Harry shuffles awkwardly closer to the armrest next to him, looking up at Louis in question. “Where do you wanna sit?” he mumbles.

Louis shrugs. “I don’t mind...Next to you?”

Harry shrugs, hoping this isn’t going to end up as a conversation where shrugs have to occur before each sentence. “I don’t mind.”

As Louis carefully sits beside him, Harry’s sure that he hears Zayn mumble, “Jesus Christ.”

 

~*~

 

They start to head back a couple of hours after that, and despite Louis’ ability to be in his bed in fractions of seconds, he still walks with the other boys, laughing and chatting with Zayn most of the way, as Harry hangs back with Liam.

“Things don’t seem to be as bad between you and Louis now,” Liam starts after a few moments of silence.

“No,” Harry replies. “At least we talk now.”

“You’ll grow on him eventually,” Liam says kindly. “I mean, look at the rest of us! We’re here celebrating your One Month like we’ve known you for years!”

Harry smiles. “It’s been amazing. Thank you.”

Liam claps Harry on the back with a grin. “Don’t mention it. In fact, it was **—** ”

“Liam?” Zayn has stopped a little further ahead, looking back at the other two boys over his shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Liam quickly looks between Harry and Zayn before excusing himself and rushing ahead, without even finishing his sentence.

“Happy One Month.”

The voice comes from Harry’s right, and he turns to the sound with a small smile on his face. “You too. Um, I mean, thank you.”

Louis seems unable to hold back from cracking a smile at Harry’s mistake. “Have you had a nice day?”

“It’s been great, thanks.” Harry nods. “Oh, and thank you for my **—** ”

“Do you mind not mentioning it in front of the others?” Louis suddenly asks in a whisper, walking so close beside Harry that Harry can feel the warmth radiating from him.

A little confused at the request, Harry agrees. “I suppose so, but **—** ”

“There’s just a bit of a misunderstanding with some people at the moment, and I reckon it would add fuel to that fire,” Louis explains, and Harry argues no more. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

After a few seconds, Louis lets out a heavy breath. “I have to go to Doncaster in half term.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, silently urging Louis to continue and watching as the older boy rolls his eyes at Harry’s lack of understanding.

“Doncaster **—** the Normal place? I’m going to be surrounded by Normals, and I don’t really know anything about the place, or how to act around people, or…”

Somewhat surprised by Louis’ panicked response **—** after assuming that he is always so calm and collected **—** Harry says, “Doncaster isn’t too scary, Louis.”

“You don’t know the half of it! It may not be scary for Normals, or even people like you, but **—** ”

“People like me?”

There’s a silence as Louis’ mouth opens and closes, making it clear that he’s struggling to come up with the right thing to say.

Harry’s not even that surprised.

Despite Louis’ slight change in character, there will always be that initial issue of him being a Full and Harry being and Empty. This is the first time Harry has seen him since their previous Mental Enhancement lesson, and he wasn’t expecting things to suddenly change, but there was part of him that was hoping that it could have been the start of them actually getting on as friends.

But apparently not.

“Why are you telling me this, Louis?” Harry eventually asks, tired of watching Louis struggle.

“I wanted to ask for your help.”

“ _My_ help?”

“With Normal stuff,” Louis explains. “I don’t know what to do, and I can’t be arsed to go, but I need to, and I know you could help me.”

 

~*~

 

Louis’ late.

Harry’s been waiting in the library for a good ten minutes or so now, getting less and less confident that Louis’ even going to turn up. Soon, his appearance will be pointless, because lunchtime ends in twenty minutes and Harry knows he has to be at his fourth lesson on time. (He’s learnt from his last German lesson that Frau Lischner can be very strict when it comes to punctuality.)

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Harry,” Liam mumbles around his pencil. “Louis probably just forgot. He normally does whenever I organise to meet up with him or something.”

Harry sighs. “He seemed like he actually wanted my help though.”

“He does,” Liam says. “Trust me, he _needs_ your help with this one; he just doesn’t want to admit it.”

And, speak of the devil, Louis then decides to appear from nowhere, flopping down into the chair opposite Harry.

“Sorry I’m late; someone had...girl issues,” Louis explains. “So, what’ve you got for me, Styles?”

“Um.” Harry clears his throat and looks down at the sheet of paper he’s written topics of conversation on. He has a feeling that anything he says could bring out a negative reaction from Louis. “How were you planning on getting there?”

Louis leans back in his seat and puts his feet up on the table, ignoring the scoff of protest from the librarian. “Apparating, I guess. I just hope that I can remember the place well enough.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit risky?” Harry asks tentatively.

Louis shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Well, how about you try public transport?”

Louis’ eyes practically bug out of their sockets. “I couldn’t do that. I’ve heard about those things, and no. Not good.”

Harry squints a little. “People ride the bus every day, Louis. It’s not scary or anything.”

“A cramped place, where I’m surrounded by Normals? No; not scary at all.”

Harry lets out a huff of breath, crossing off a few things from his list.  “How far away is the place that you’re heading to?”

“Well, as I _said,_ it’s in Doncaster,” Louis replies, “so however far away that is.”

From how difficult Louis is already being, less than five minutes into their discussion, Harry’s fairly sure that Louis’ nicer side is often much less likely to come out to play.

 

~*~

 

“I’m not helping him again, Zayn. No way.”

“Louis’ just...like that. It’s part of his character,” Zayn says gently. “I’m still not _completely_ used to him yet. Liam says he just needs to find his soulmate, and then he’ll stop being such a dick to everyone.”

Harry sighs and takes another bite of his banana. “Maybe I should try again. Just once more.”

“Go for it,” Zayn replies. “Maybe you’ll be the one to mellow him.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Just as Harry thinks of a comeback, there’s a tap on his shoulder, and the smile slides off his face when he sees who it is.

“Louis.”

“Can I have a word?”

Fairly confident that this conversation will probably end in the exact same way as all of their others have been doing recently, Harry drops everything in the bin, and follows Louis out of the hall and down the corridor outside to the same set of stairs as before, which Louis steps underneath. Harry is a bit more cautious as he does the same, but all that’s under there is a row of lockers and a couple of lights on the wall.

“What did you want to talk to me about this time?”

Louis shuffles on his feet looking almost nervous before he replies. “I would really like you to help me with Normal stuff again today, if that’s okay. You said some really helpful things yesterday, and you probably thought I wasn’t listening ‘cause I was just being stupidly obnoxious, but **—** ”

Harry interrupts him with a shake of his head “It’s fine. Do you want to start now?”

Louis purses his lips. “I have a football meeting in about five minutes, so how about we meet up later? In the library again? I’ll bring food!”

Louis looks so genuinely enthused by the idea of meeting up with Harry again, that Harry really feels like it’s impossible for him to say ‘no’ and ‘never again’, so he nods and Louis thanks him, running back down the corridor.

 

~*~

 

Harry realises after dinner that evening that Louis didn’t actually specify a time for the two of them to meet. Unsure as to what to do, he finds himself asking Zayn whether he knows where Louis’ room is.

“He rooms with Liam,” Zayn explains, flicking through a textbook about Pop Art.

“And you know where that is, I’m sure.”

Zayn scoffs. “For the same reason that you’ll soon know for yourself, you mean?”

“I’m only seeing him to teach him about Normality, Zayn.”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn doesn’t move his line of vision away from his textbook. “Whatever. Liam and Louis’ room is **—** ”

He’s interrupted by a knock on the door, and Harry opens it to reveal Louis dressed in joggers and a soft-looking hoodie with the sleeves pulled over his hands.

“Hi, Harry!” he says cheerfully. “You still on for the library?”

Harry can’t hold back the smile threatening to appear on his face. “Yeah. See you later, Zayn!”

Zayn throws his arm out to the side in a manner which Harry guesses was supposed to be a wave.

 

~*~

 

Louis clutches his stomach because he’s laughing so hard and he tips onto the back two legs of his chair so precariously, Harry thinks he might actually fall.

Before he can lean back any further, Harry is bracing his hand over the back of the chair and holding Louis’ weight. “Woah there, Lou. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Louis freezes before slowly dropping back onto all four legs again. “You’ve never called me Lou before.”

“Oh. I’m really sorry. It just came out. I **—** ”

Louis reaches over and places a hand over Harry’s mouth. “I don’t mind. You can call me Lou whenever you want.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, and besides, Louis’ hand is still over his mouth, so he doesn’t have much chance to get anything out that isn’t muffled beyond recognition, really.

After a moment, Louis’ eyes widen and he moves his hand away, as if he’d forgotten that he’d put it there. “Sorry about that,” he says nervously.

Harry shrugs. “S’alright. Anyway, maybe we should get onto **—** ”

“I sort of want to ask you something,” Louis blurts out, effectively cutting off Harry’s sentence once again. “Shit, sorry, I’ve just gone and interrupted again. My bad.”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Carry on.”

When Louis hesitates, Harry takes the opportunity to study the boy beside him, slightly wary of what he might be about to say. Louis’ character seems to have changed back in the span of less than twenty-four hours, and to be frank, Harry’s a bit worried about it. They haven’t once spoken about Normals in the past hour, and throughout the whole time, Harry has been reminded just how lovely Louis can be. (When he’s not being an arse, of course.) The downside of that is that Louis is the sort of person that may have a lot to say, but is also incredibly invested in other’s opinions too, which makes Harry feel... _not great._ It’s the sort of trait that Harry always finds incredibly attractive, and he certainly _can’t_ start getting attracted to Louis. _No way in hell._ Especially as he is fairly sure that _this_ Louis may only show his face when there’s no one else around.

But Louis’ cute. And funny. And sweet.

_Shit._

“Okay, well, I guess there’s a reason why we haven’t got onto the subject of Normals yet this evening,” Louis starts.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks slowly, cautiously.

“I, uh, was wondering if…”

What Louis says next is far from being understood by Harry, so Harry gently prompts him to repeat it.

Louis takes a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d mind coming with me. To Doncaster, I mean.”

Harry feels like his brain may have exploded. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know it’s a bit out of the blue **—** ”

“Louis, we barely know each other.”

Louis avoids Harry’s eye contact and tugs at a loose thread on the cuff of his hoodie. “I really don’t think you understand how scary the idea of me going out into the Normal world is. Having someone like you with me will make me feel much more at ease.”

About three quarters of Harry’s mind is screaming, _“Yes. Yes. YES!”_ but Harry can’t bring himself to ignore the remaining part that tells him to slow down and think it through. He and Louis met _just over a month ago._ This evening has been their first proper conversation **—** not including their Mental Enhancement lesson **—** where Louis hasn’t been avoiding him, or treating him differently because of his Normality. He knows barely anything about Louis at all.

In spite of all that, he still fucking says yes.

 

~*~

 

“Well, I can’t fucking believe it.”

Harry shrugs, knowing that Niall can’t see; can maybe only hear the bedclothes rustling against the material of his jumper.

“You and Tomlinson? Louis Tomlinson, who is more scared of Empties than they are of him?”

“He’s not that bad, Ni,” Harry says defensively, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “He’s just a bit...confused. I think he expected me to try and convert him into being a Normal or summat.”

Niall lets out a short burst of laughter. “And you’re going to meet his family? They’re gonna love you, man.”

“You make it sound like it’s a whole ‘meeting the parents’ fiasco,” Harry accuses, jumping when Niall shoots upwards out of bed and looks at him with wide eyes.

“It isn’t that, is it? You’re not trying to tell me that you’ve been fucking Tommo since you got here, are you? Please tell me you’re not.”

Harry shakes his head fast enough to make his neck hurt. “Jesus, Niall. Of course not.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Niall wiggles back under his duvet again. “Had me worried for a minute there.”

Harry frowns in Niall’s direction for a moment, watching as the boy’s eyes slowly slide shut. “Ni?”

“What’s up?”

“Do you like Louis?”

Niall sits up once again. “God, man, you need to make your mind up. Stop asking my approval, will ya?”

Harry nearly chokes on his own saliva. “Niall, no, I’m not asking for your approval.”

“Then what?”

Harry bats the question around in his head a little, trying to come up with the best way to phrase it. “Well, sometimes you talk about him like he’s a major twat, but then when you’re actually with him, you’re the best of friends. So, are you **—** ?” 

“We _are_ the best of friends,” Niall interrupts. “Jesus Christ, God knows what my life would be without Tommo. I just...I remember what it used to be like when _I_ first met him. He was a right sod to me **—** took him ages to get used to the fact that we shared close friends and we’d have to put up with one another. Ever since we both tried for the footie team though, that was it. _Now_ it would take a lot to separate us.” He lets out a little huff of breath. “Hell, I guess I’m a little bit protective of ya, Harry. Don’t want him to mess you around like he did with me. Something deep down tells me he won’t though **—** I think he can be a right softie when he lets himself, and you might have it in you to make him do it.”

Harry lets out a small laugh. “I doubt that.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say no,” Niall argues. “You see it from your eyes, and we see it from ours, but it’s likely that we may be seein’ something different.”

The two of them drop off to sleep not long after that, and Harry spends the whole time wondering when it was that Niall became so cryptic with some of his words.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
> 
> [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/138359685903/call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo-truthtattoos-at)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes - I'll hopefully have a proper read-through tomorrow!! :) Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm so far!!

“You ready to go?”

Harry looks up from the bed where he’s currently packing his bag for the week, and smiles when he sees that it’s Zayn stood in the doorway. “Yeah, sure.” After shoving three more t-shirts and a jumper in, Harry stands up to follow Zayn out of the room, hesitating by the dresser before quickly opening the top drawer and pulling out the scarf that Louis gave him for his One Month.

Zayn eyes the piece of material curiously, but doesn’t ask, smiling at Harry instead and gesturing for him to lead the way.

“Um, Harry?” he says when they’re halfway down the back staircase.

Harry stops in his tracks and looks at Zayn with concern across his features. “What’s up?”

Zayn doesn’t quite make eye contact when he says: “Are you sure you want to go? With Louis, I mean.”

Well, Harry wasn’t quite expecting him to say that. Sure, Harry himself has had his doubts - many of them, in fact - but hearing it from someone else has had an even bigger effect on him.

“Do you--?” Harry pauses and clears his throat. “Do you think I shouldn’t go?”

Zayn remains silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s completely up to you, Harry, but you don’t really know him all that well, and...well, you know what he can be like.”

Harry sighs. He _does_ know that, definitely, but he also knows the other side of Louis’ personality as well. He’s sure that deep-down, Louis is really a nice person through and through, and the other side of him only makes itself known in the company of others because of natural instinct. He’ll never understand it completely, but there’s just something about Louis that makes Harry _want_ to see him for who he actually is.

“I think I should go, Zayn,” he finally says. “Maybe, because I’m going there to help him, it’ll help us to get on better.”

Zayn nods slowly. “I honestly hope it does.”

Oh, Harry definitely hopes so too.

 

~*~

 

“You will be careful, won’t you?” Liam asks cautiously, looking between Harry and Louis where they stand below him out on the doorstep.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, Liam. Can we go now?”

Liam sighs but is immediately pulled into a tight hug by Louis, and once they’ve separated, Louis turns and starts making his way down the drive.

There is no hesitation before Liam is hugging Harry too and mumbling, “If he’s a dick, just give him some space, yeah?” into his ear.

“Space?” Harry asks as he pulls back.

“It’s all he needs.”

Harry nods slowly, and before anything else can be said, the two of them hear yelling from Louis in the distance, telling Harry to hurry up.

“I’ll see you in a week, then, I suppose.”

“Have fun!” Liam grins, and pats Harry on the back before turning back to where Zayn and Niall are waving from the doorstep.  Harry waves back before turning around and squinting into the darkness, trying to find Louis.

“Lou?” he calls, and hears laughter from the boys in the background before the door is closed behind them. After a moment, Harry continues forward very carefully, hoping that his clumsiness may dissipate just for a short while before he faceplants on the gravel. “Lou,” he says again, reaching out in front on him with his hands and hoping to meet the material of Louis’ hoodie or something. There’s nothing there, so he carries on, hoping that there will be a light along the drive at some point soon so he can try and find his phone in his bag to act as a torch. He has a fleeting thought of how Louis could’ve got so far ahead so quickly, but of course it’s just the first annoying event of the week - he’s teleported and left Harry back where it’ll take ages for him to catch up.

_Great._

Suddenly, there’s a hand on Harry’s and a scream leaving his mouth before a voice is hissing:

“Jesus Christ, Harry; it’s me.”

“Louis?”

“Yes, Louis. Where did you go?”

Harry lets out a sigh of relief and subconsciously thinks about how Louis’ fingers are brushing the back of his hand. “I was with Liam...how did you get so far ahead?”

“I thought you were behind me,” Louis replies, not quite answering the question.

“Well, I wasn’t.”

There’s a pause, but then Louis is saying, “Are you ready to keep going then?”

Harry nods, but then realises that Louis can’t see him.

“Sure.”

 

~*~

 

They’ve been walking for a good forty-five minutes already, with a significant lack of conversation, but it’s certainly not the silence that’s frustrating Harry;  the sound of Louis shuffling his trainers against the road is really starting to grate on his nerves.

Eventually, enough is enough.

“Louis.”

“What’s up?”

“Would you mind lifting up your feet when you walk?”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mum.”

Harry sighs and opens his mouth to say what’s on his mind, but hesitates. Saying how he feels will either make things better between him and Louis, or make them even worse than they already are most of the time.

Even though Louis says nothing more, he does start walking properly, and it isn’t too much longer until they reach their destination - ahead of schedule.

“They really need a bus stop outside school,” Louis complains, flopping down onto the metal bench at the station.

“Wouldn’t it be a risk for people finding out about...you know?”

Louis looks up at Harry and raises his eyebrows. “No shit.”

Harry lets out a huff of breath, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “You’ve got your money for the bus, yeah?”

Louis nods distractedly, now looking down at his phone, the bright light from it illuminating his features. It’s only a moment later that Harry is carefully sitting beside him on the bench, huddling up as best as he can in his coat and pulling his beanie down over his ears. It’s late February, and about six o’clock in the morning, so it must be not that far above freezing.

He subtly keeps his back to Louis, fearing that he may look for too long if he faces the other way. There’s just something about Louis that draws him in; Harry doesn’t know if it’s the piercing blue eyes or sharp cheekbones, or feathery, chestnut hair...or perhaps even his personality - when he’s being nice, that is. Harry just wishes that he could ask; move away from the awkward silences and stilted conversations, and just become the proper friends they could be if Louis would just make up his mind about how to act around Harry.

 

“Harry.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder when Harry wakes up and he opens his eyes to see Louis looking at him with concern furrowing his eyebrows.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been asleep for half an hour.”

Harry straightens up from where he has slumped to the left on the bench, cringing as his neck twinges. “I have?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a fairly lengthy silence as the two boys continue to just look at one another in silence before Harry clears his throat. “Is that all you had to tell me?”

Pause.

“The bus is here,” Louis suddenly says and straightens up before turning on his heel and making his way over to said vehicle which is parked just a bit further down from the road from where they’ve been waiting.

Harry sits for a while longer, wondering what that interaction even was, until he’s throwing his bag over his shoulder and hurrying after Louis, climbing onto the bus and asking the bus driver for a single to their nearest train station.

 

~*~

 

Harry’s sure that he’s never been so still in his whole life.

He’s sure that if he moves one muscle, everything will just go downhill, and he definitely doesn’t want that - especially as Louis is very warm, and Harry can’t help but notice how cute he looks now he’s asleep. Well, he always looks cute, but…

_Oh God, not again._

Louis stirs slightly and Harry holds his breath, only letting it out when Louis makes a soft, sleepy noise before wiggling even closer to Harry’s arm.

The train journey to Doncaster should only take about an hour, and they’re already past half-way, so Harry just hopes he can remain unmoving until the end.

 

_“Things are a little bit different this time, huh?”_

_“The ridiculous time of the morning is still the same though.”_

_There’s the sound of a tut. “Poor sleepy baby.”_

_Harry can’t see a thing, but he can feel warmth beside him, a comfortable pressure across his shoulders, and finally, a weight on his right leg, almost like someone’s sitting on it._

_“I love you.”_

 

Harry wakes up with a start and once again feels the now familiar force of Louis’ head against his shoulder. He then realises that he has his own head rested on top of Louis’, and as he carefully straightens up, Louis jolts and his eyes fly open.

“Sorry; didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry whispers honestly.

Louis opens his mouth in a way that looks like he’s going to retort something, but he sags after a moment and mumbles, “Thanks for letting me use your arm; it made a comfy pillow.”

Harry hums. “I, uh - I’m glad.”

Any further conversation - or lack of, really - is interrupted by the announcement that the next stop will be Doncaster.

 

~*~

 

“I suppose there are a few things I should tell you about the people we’re going to see,” Louis says, breaking the fifteen-minute silence the two boys had been holding on to for their final bus journey to the outskirts of Doncaster.

“Okay,” Harry replies gently, unsure as to what Louis may need to explain.

Louis clears his throat. “Well, there are five of them living there at the moment - most of them are Magics who I grew up with, and they are practically family to me, so they’re all very important. When we get there, they will probably want to talk to me straight away, so if no one shows you to your room, it’s the first one on the right at the top of the stairs.”

Harry nods, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of information Louis is cramming into seconds.

“Um, they will probably just introduce themselves when the time is right, and they’ll probably ask loads of questions. Sorry about that. And, uh, they may be a bit strange with you we first get there, but I’ll talk to them for you, yeah? And, um…”

“Louis.”

Louis pauses in his ramblings and turns to look at Harry properly from where he’s been staring off out of the window for the past minute or so.

“Are you nervous about this?”

“Of course not.”

“Lou.”

At the sound of the nickname, Louis sighs and shifts a little in his seat. “I suppose I am - sort of.”

“It sounds like you care about them a lot, so I’m sure you mean as much to them as they do to you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Harry’s taking a bit of a gamble by saying this, as he has no idea how things work with Louis and these people, but he assumes he must be right because Louis is sighing again, looking down at his hands and mumbling,

“Yeah, I know.”

He then, to Harry’s greatest surprise, leans into Harry’s side once again and murmurs something which is too quiet to be heard.

Harry decides that it’s best not to ask.

 

“So, first door on the right then, yeah?”

Louis takes in an audibly deep breath where he is stood a little bit in front of Harry, staring at the door for a moment longer before turning around and smiling weakly in Harry’s direction. “Yeah. I’ll come and see you when I can, okay?”

Harry nods, hoping that the returning smile on his face is supportive as he watches Louis reach out to the doorbell and ring it.

There’s barely time for a lone thought before the door flies open, Louis is pulled inside, and the door shuts again. Harry stands there dumbly for a moment, not knowing what to do until the door slowly opens again, and he takes a cautious step past the threshold, looking to see who let him in.

There’s no one there.

Well, not until he closes the door behind him and a woman with platinum blonde hair steps out of a room further down the hall immediately after.

“Hello, Ha--”

The greeting is incomplete when she’s pulled back into the room she’d just come out of, and Harry just stands and frowns to himself for a moment before making his way over to the stairs and then on to the room which will be his for the week ahead.

 

~*~

 

A knock sounds on Harry’s door when he’s just started the final chapter of the book he’d only just started that morning. After he mumbles, “come in,” Louis does, a plate of cheese and biscuits in his hand.

“Sorry; I didn’t expect that to take so long. Turns out they had a lot to tell me. Good book?”

Harry folds over the corner of his current page and closes said book. “Yes, thanks. Anything interesting?”

Louis shrugs, gingerly sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just...family stuff.”

Harry nods, his mouth open in an _‘ah’_ of understanding. He has a brief thought of the girl in the corridor before and can’t help but ask, “Did they know I was coming?”

Louis purses his lips. “Not entirely. They knew I was coming with someone, but I didn’t tell them who you were or why I was bringing you. They would’ve called me a wuss if I said I needed the Normal-related support.”

“Surely they’d understand why you feel so uncomfortable in those sort of situations,” Harry suggests.

Louis looks like he’s debating an answer for quite some time, until he says: “Liam told you the thing about Fulls and Normal blood, right?”

Harry nods slowly, not really knowing where Louis could be going with this, and slightly wary now the topic of conversation has finally come up between them. Before it had just seemed to be such a taboo subject.

“Well, it’s not entirely true. Not _all_ Fulls are cautious around Normal blood - it’s just those that have had a...negative experience to do with it.”

Harry has the inevitable question on the tip of his tongue, but he daren’t ask, knowing that Louis is probably struggling with this conversation enough as it is, let alone with the addition of personal experiences.

“Is that why Liam hasn’t got a problem with me then?” he asks instead, and immediately regrets it.

Louis’ eyes widen. “Shit, Harry, I… I didn’t mean to--”

“Its honestly fine.” Harry shakes his head. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I understand if there’s something there stopping you from being completely comfortable around me, but as long as I can be sure that I haven’t done anything specifically to upset you, then it’s fine.”

Harry sees Louis’ ribcage move up and down slowly a few times before the older boy is putting the plate in his hands down on the bedside table and leaning across to wrap Harry up in his arms in one fluid movement.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I-- I haven’t meant to be so awful to you, I just...I promise I’ll explain soon, yeah?”

Harry almost feels completely frozen where he’s sat with Louis’ arms surrounding him, thoroughly confused by how their conversation has accelerated from zero to one hundred in less than sixty seconds.

Louis pulls away almost as quickly as he dove in, and smiles genuinely at Harry, handing over the plate from the bedside table. “Here - eat. I’ve already had some, so this is all yours.”

Harry returns the smile gratefully. “Thank you, Louis.”

“It’s alright. Thank you for helping me get here in one piece. I wish I could’ve been a bit more sociable on the journey - sorry about that. There were quite a few people around.” Louis chuckles nervously. “On the bright side, I suppose it means we’ll have even more to talk about this week.”

Harry has no idea what has happened to the boy currently sat with his knees pressed against his, but if he had to guess, he’d say that the quiet, moody character from before may have been left behind in the room downstairs.

 

~*~

 

It’s not until the next morning that Harry finally meets some of the other occupants of the house.

Three of them are already in the kitchen when he finally gathers up the courage to emerge from his room, hoping that Louis will be awake too. Unfortunately, the three people in the kitchen are all strangers to him, and look at him curiously as soon as the door shuts noisily behind him.

“Harry, is it?” the first asks, smiling kindly.

Harry swallows nervously, but nods. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Caroline, and this is Lou and Greg.”

Harry greets each of them, hoping his facial expression is polite and doesn’t show how he’s actually scared shitless. Lou immediately offers him breakfast, and he gratefully accepts, carefully sliding into a seat opposite Greg at the kitchen table.

“So, Louis didn’t tell us much about you,” Greg comments, taking a sip out of his mug. “All I know is your first name and the fact that you’re an Empty.”

“Louis told you I’m an Empty?” Harry asks cautiously, still nervous that these people may dislike him because of it, despite what Louis had explained the previous evening.

Greg shakes his head. “We have a way of knowing. He honestly told us nothing more than the fact that you’re called Harry – and that took a lot to get out of him.”

Harry shrugs, not entirely sure what sort of life-facts they’re expecting to hear from him. He doesn’t want to start talking about his favourite colour or his cat if it’s just going to make him look stupid in front of these people who are so important to Louis.

“Well, what’s your Mental?” Caroline asks, setting a plate of eggs, bacon and baked beans in front of Harry.

“Thank you,” Harry says, taking the cutlery from Caroline’s hand. “It’s telekinesis.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Lou enthuses, sitting in the chair beside Greg’s. “Why do people get cool ones like that and I’m stuck with mine?”

“Hey, yours is great,” Caroline argues.

“What is it?” Harry asks curiously, hoping he isn’t overstepping a boundary by doing so.

The three other people at the table exchange looks, and just as Lou goes to reply, the door flies open and Louis is stood there with a loud exclamation of ‘good morning’ leaving his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Lou; Lux is asleep upstairs! Can’t you be a little bit more—?“ Lou is interrupted by the sound of crying coming from upstairs, and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

When Lou has left the room, Louis immediately steals her seat and grins at Harry. There’s a moment before Harry returns it, but then he adds:

“Doesn’t it get confusing?”

Louis frowns. “Doesn’t _what_ get confusing?”

“Lou. Louis.”

Louis chuckles. “I suppose it does sometimes, yeah.”

The two boys don’t break eye contact for the next few seconds, and after a while there’s a mumbled, “Jesus Christ,” coming from Greg, which breaks the spell.

 

~*~

 

 

**From: Gemma**

_**Hope you’re enjoying Doncaster bro, my offer still stands to beat up that kid if he’s awful to you. And I know that he’s not /always/ a dick, but that doesn’t mean he’s always gonna be a good guy – don’t forget that xx** _

**To: Gemma**

_**It’s been alright so far, and louis’ being better than I thought he would be. I’ll let you know if he** _

 

“Who’re ya texting?”

Harry quickly locks his phone and rolls onto his back, looking up at Louis who is now sat beside him. “My sister,” he replies.

“So you’re still in touch with her?” Louis’ tone is that of surprise and Harry tilts his head a little.

“She doesn’t care if I’m a Magic.”

Louis moves so he’s laid on his side, facing Harry still. “She doesn’t care at all? Like, is she part Magic or summat?”

“Nope,” Harry shakes his head, “one hundred percent Normal. Unless she isn’t telling me something.”

“It’s just sort of strange – I thought Normals hated Magics,” Louis mumbles.

Harry shrugs. ”Some do. Personally, I think quite a few of them are scared more than anything. At the end of the day, we can do things that they can’t, which is a major advantage for us.”

“Apart from the fact that if we get caught doing said things, we can be sentenced to death,” Louis deadpans.

“Yeah…that’s a negative.”

As Louis comes up with the next thing to say, Harry can’t help but realise that this is the closest his face has ever been to the other boy’s and, God, Harry just wishes he could shuffle a little bit closer to press his lips against Louis’.

It’s an urge that he can’t explain; it’s almost like it has been lingering in his brain since he first met Louis, and although there are times when Harry really dislikes him – that have occurred more often than not so far - those urges just never go away. It’s almost like they’ve become part of his subconscious, and however hard Harry tries to stop them, they always seem to appear when silence falls over the two of them and Harry can’t use anything to block them out.

_Harry doesn’t even know if he likes boys in that way._

Sure, he can appreciate the fact that Louis really is…well, beautiful. And smart. And cute. And…

_He really needs to stop going off on these Louis-tangents._

“So how about it then?” Louis suddenly asks, and Harry realises that the subject has been changed.

“Uh, yeah, great!” Harry enthuses, having absolutely no idea what he’s agreeing to.

Louis smiles widely and jumps up from the bed, holding out a hand towards Harry to drag him up as well, and then out of the room, down the stairs and outside.

“Um, where is it that we’re going again?”

Louis stops in his tracks and raises an eyebrow in Harry’s direction. “One of these days I’d love to find out what you’re thinking about when you have a little daydream,” he says, and Harry would hate it if such a comment came out as patronising as it should, but it doesn’t. To Harry, it almost sounds... _fond_ \-  and that’s one adjective Harry never thought he’d be using to describe something Louis has said to him.

 

~*~

 

“I don’t know about this, Lou…” Harry says cautiously, looking at the big drop below him and trying to swallow away the lump that has formed in his throat. “Can’t I just keep watching you?”

Louis tuts. “And why would you want to keep doing that? It’s boring.”

Harry certainly doesn’t think so.

Watching Louis skateboard had been somewhat mesmerising; seeing the way he maintained his balance so well on the board as he went up and down the half-pipe, pulling off flip tricks perfectly before each landing. Plus, Harry has always been a better spectator than participant when it comes to skateboarding - perfect balance isn’t quite his forte.

“You won’t fall, Harry,” Louis continues. “This won’t be like the skateboarding you’re used to; I promise.”

Harry still looks a Louis with a doubtful expression on his face before Louis drops his board to the ground and holds it in place with his right foot.

“See this board? It’s not going anywhere until I move my foot. It wouldn’t go anywhere even if my foot _wasn’t_ still on it, but that’s beside the point. How about you step on, and I won’t let you go until you feel ready, yeah?”

Thinking that Louis must have some experience with teaching people how to do this, Harry takes a tentative step closer to Louis and then places his first foot onto the front of the board.

“Okay, that’s it. Ready for the other foot?”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, nods and steps completely up onto the board. It remains completely stationary - already unlike the skateboards he’d stepped on (and immediately off of) in the past.

“Right, I’m gonna move my foot now…”

“No, don’t! I’m not ready to go yet!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Louis consoles. “Nothing will change - it’s just so I can hold onto you and help you along.”

Harry swallows again and nods, unclenching his hands where they rest against his sides. “Alright.”

Louis takes his foot away from the back of the board and steps to Harry’s side, not hesitating at all before he’s resting both hands on Harry’s hips and holding him gently.

“This isn’t the time for slow-dancing, Lou,” Harry croaks, happy that he was quick enough to come up with something to say before he ran out of air.

Louis rolls his eyes and grins. “You’re right - there’s plenty of time for that later.”

Both boys seem to be fairly shocked by Louis’ comeback, as there is a small gap in conversation before Louis speaks again.

“So, do you want to push yourself off the edge, or do you need my help?”

Harry coughs to clear his throat. “I don’t think I really want to take my foot of the board, to be honest.”

That’s the cue for Louis to start gently guiding Harry to the edge of the half-pipe, only using the grip he has on the younger boy’s hips. “You ready?” he murmurs when they get there.

Harry closes his eyes and nods jerkily.

Then it’s all over so fast.

He can’t keep his eyes closed for long, and he opens them just as he ascends into the air off the other side of the ramp, returning to the ground at a slightly faster speed and then coming out of the half-pipe where he entered it.

“How was that?” Louis asks as he guides Harry off the board. “Was it different?”

“It sort of didn’t feel like I was actually doing anything - I just went along with it, really,” Harry admits, and Louis grins at his response.

“That’s ‘cause I was controlling it.”

“What?”

“My board, my power.” Louis puts his foot down on the end of the board so it flips up and he can catch it. “That’s the difference with these boards - they are completely under your control, unless you lend it to someone and purposely let them take over.”

“So it’s because of you that I didn’t die just then?”

Louis chuckles. “You wouldn’t have died anyway, you dork.” He slaps a hand down on Harry’s shoulder. “Lunch?”

 

~*~

 

On Thursday night, after yet another tiring day at the half-pipe, Caroline, Greg, Lou and Tom (the other Magic in the house, who Harry finally got to meet on Tuesday morning) announce that they are going out for dinner, leaving Harry and Louis alone to babysit Lux, Tom and Lou’s daughter.

“I can’t believe you let them force us into doing this, Harold,” Louis complains, jiggling a giggling Lux up and down on his knee. “I don’t even know how to look after kids.”

“You’ve been doing okay so far,” Harry praises. “Have you never done it before now?” he asks, taking Lux from Louis and cuddling her close as her eyes are starting to droop despite her laughter.

Louis shakes his head. “I never had any younger siblings or anything,” he explains, “and I was at Muisar from the age of six, so…”

“Six?”

“Yup.”

There’s a pause as Harry takes a moment to come up with the best way to approach the next subject. “So…” he starts. “You said that the people here are _like_ family to you--”

“Please don’t ask, Harry,” Louis interrupts, starting at the TV and not looking away.

Harry feels a jolt in his stomach. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry, I--”

Louis then reaches out for the remote on the coffee table and mutes the television before turning to face Harry properly. “I know, Haz, I know.”

It’s not the first time Louis has used this nickname - it had slipped out on Wednesday afternoon when Harry survived his first flip trick - but Harry still feels a little flutter within him at the sound of it in Louis’ voice.

“I just--” Louis continues, “my real family is a bit of a... _tricky_ subject, if you could call it that. I know things have improved massively between us these past few days, but I still don’t feel like I can…” he trails off, his eyes drifting down to his hands.

Harry hesitates, but then reaches out with his free hand to get two fingers under Louis’ chin to raise his eyes back to his. “Don’t worry about it, Lou. You’re fine.”

Louis smiles gratefully for the comfort, and there’s a moment before the two of them realise that Harry still has his fingers on Louis’ face. Instead of moving them away, however, Harry presses them a little harder into Louis’ skin, like a reminder. He can see Louis’ Adam’s Apple bob slightly in his throat, and then he realises how they’re moving closer together, and they’re not very far apart so it won’t take long for them to meet, and…

The front door slams shut.

“We’re back!”

Louis’ eyes widen and he quickly leans back again, unmuting the television and staring at it as if _Finding Nemo_ is the most thrilling documentary.  

“Has she been okay?” Lou asks quietly as she steps into the living room and takes in the sleeping Lux on Harry’s knee.

“She’s been perfect,” Harry replies. “In fact, I was just about to take her up. Should I…?”

“Yeah, sure, sure,” Lou says gratefully. “Tom and I will be up soon anyway.”

Harry wishes everyone a good night before making his way upstairs and carefully placing Lux in her cot. She barely stirs, but won’t let go of Harry’s shirt straight away, so after some gentle tugging and swapping for a teddy bear, Harry is free a couple of minutes later.

 

It’s only when he has brushed his teeth and got into bed that he replays what just happened with Louis over and over in his head. It’s those stupid urges again, forcing him into things that are a bad idea.

Harry decides then and there that he won’t give in to them.

_No. Not a chance._

 

(And if after making that particular decision his right hand is sneaking under the material of his boxers and tugging himself off , then no one has to know that part.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
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>  [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/103495247908/truthtattoos-call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a massive battle with writers' block, I've finally managed to finish this chapter! I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I wanted to get it out for you guys, so here you go :)
> 
> (Sorry for any mistakes; it's a bit late and my read-through may have missed some things!)

“It looks fine, you know.”

Harry jumps and quickly turns around to the doorway, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees Caroline stood there, smiling kindly.

“You think it does?” Harry mumbles, tugging at the hem of the lavender jumper adorning his torso.

Caroline continues to smile and steps into the room properly. “Better than fine, in fact,” she compliments, and for a moment, her eyes are drawn to the bedpost, where Harry has hung up the One Month scarf. “It would look lovely with that, too.”

Shrugging, Harry reaches out for the scarf and runs it through his fingers. “I suppose it could.”

“Here.” Caroline gently takes it from him, reaching up to Harry’s curls and pushing them back with it. Once it’s tied in a knot at the back of his head, she drops her hands to his shoulders and turns him around to face the mirror at the end of his bed. “What do you think?”

The navy blue against the chocolate brown of his hair actually does look _good_ , so Harry nods gratefully. “Thank you, Caroline.”

“I tell you what; I ought to be thanking you.”

Harry frowns, and makes eye contact with her through the mirror. “Me? Why?”

Caroline’s facial expression is somewhat wistful when she answers with, “You’ve been making Louis very happy. He’s needed that for a long time.”

“Um, I really don’t think that it’s been me making him happy, I’m afraid…” Harry chuckles nervously.

Caroline shrugs. “Is there anybody else it could be?”

“Um, well, maybe he—”

Caroline mirrors Harry’s furrowed eyebrows. “You mean he hasn’t…”

“Hazza—?” Louis pauses in the doorway, much like Caroline had done so minutes earlier. “Oh, hi Caroline. You alright?”

“Can I have a word with you, Louis?” Caroline asks back.

Louis looks torn. “I was actually just—”

“Now.”

“I’ll come back and get you in a minute, Haz!” Louis exclaims as Caroline starts pulling him away. “I like your jumper!”

The door shuts behind the two of them and Harry flops back down on the bed, his stomach growling in anticipation of the barbeque they have planned for dinner.

 

~*~

 

It’s surprisingly not too cold outside where Harry lays beside Louis, looking up at the stars that are showing clearly in the night sky.  The grass beneath them is slightly damp, but Harry really doesn’t mind; having Louis in his company appears to be taking any negatives away.

“Gonna frost tonight,” Louis observes. “It’ll probably be cold for our journey home.”

Harry nods, making a mental note to keep out his coat and probably an extra hoodie, just in case. It is February, after all.

“I wonder if the boys have had a good week,” Harry mumbles thoughtfully.

Louis chuckles softly. “They’ve probably done fuck-all to be completely honest.”

“So not much unlike us then?” Harry grins, turning his head to the side to look at Louis properly.

Louis does the same. “Harold, we’ve travelled all the way to Doncaster—it’s been an adventure!” There’s a pause before he’s adding, “And I’ve taught you how to skateboard, which was a task in itself.”

“ _Heyyy_ ,” Harry whines, “I came all the way here for you!”

Louis’ cheeky grin turns into a soft smile. “I know. I really do appreciate it, by the way.”

Harry nods slowly. “Sure, sure.”

Louis quickly sits up and tugs at Harry’s arm until he does the same. “Don’t be like that, Hazza. I…” He trails off, reaching up to brush a hand over the scarf in Harry’s hair. “Is that—?”

“I’m sorry – it was Caroline’s suggestion, and I thought that—"

“No, no. I was just gonna say how lovely it looks, actually. You should wear it like that more often.” Louis’ tone is so incredibly warm and just so _lovely_ , that Harry wouldn’t mind curling up in it and going to sleep.

He clears his throat. “More often as in…?”

“As in wearing it at school and telling everyone that I bought it for you, yeah—if you want to, that is.”

“I thought that—"

Louis shrugs. “I guess I’ve realised that I don’t care anymore. What will be, will be. It is what it is. Et cetera.”

“So,” Harry starts, steeling himself to test the waters a little, “it’s about your reputation then?”

“Um, I suppose so…sort of. There’s quite a bit more to it, though.”

Harry lets out the breath he was holding in worry of Louis being angry that he asked. “So when we’re back at school, will we just go back to only being friends when we’re alone?”

Louis sighs, reaching up to Harry’s hair again; this time to tuck a stray curl behind the younger boy’s ear. “Never again, Haz. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

 

 

~*~

 

The boys are waiting on the doorstep of Muisar when Harry and Louis get home on the Saturday, and after hugging a welcoming Niall and Liam, Harry is met with a concerned expression from Zayn.

“It was okay, right?” he mumbles into the shoulder of Harry’s coat.

Harry pulls back a little and smiles. “It’s been good, Zee. Really good.”

“And you’re not just saying that?”

“Zayn!” Before Harry can answer, Louis is hugging Zayn from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder so he can smile over at Harry. “This looks too serious to be a reunion,” he comments. “Are you interrogating my little Hazza?”

Zayn cocks an eyebrow at Harry as if to ask, ‘ _little Hazza?_ ’ but goes on to say, “Just checking that you’ve been looking after our…” Pause. “...Little Hazza.” He turns to look at Louis, and Harry doesn’t miss the teasing expression he sends in Louis’ direction.

Louis scowls. “Come on, Haz; let’s go and unpack.”

 

As the two of them walk up the main staircase, leaving the other boys to meet them in the library, Louis nudges his hip against Harry’s, and when the younger boy turns to look at him, he grins.

Harry can’t help but smile back, a hopeful feeling within him that things might actually get better from now on.

 

~*~

 

“Again?”

Louis raises a sceptical eyebrow and leans against the doorframe. “Are you complaining, Harold?”

“Of course not.” Harry shakes his head before stepping forward and pulling Louis into a hug, stumbling back into the room and letting Louis kick the door closed.

“You with us again tonight, Lou?” Niall asks from his bed, tossing his biology textbook away to the end of his bed.

Louis chuckles as he tries to pull himself out of Harry’s embrace and Harry continues to cling on like a koala bear. “I’m afraid so, mate,” he replies, sitting down on the edge of Harry’s bed and slipping off his shoes, still with the younger boy’s arms wrapped around him.

Niall shrugs. “Eh, I prefer it when you come over here instead of having to deal with Zayn’s pining.”

“He’s not _that_ bad,” Harry reasons, finally releasing Louis but grinning when Louis wraps an arm around his waist. “He just needs time to let it all out, and then he’s fine.”

 

When Louis and Niall begin having an extensive discussion about something that Harry can’t quite follow, he just sits there beside Louis, trying not to be too obvious in the way he keeps looking up so he can watch the way Louis’ mouth moves as he speaks.

You see, that’s become one of his biggest problems most recently.

Ever since he’s finally dug deep enough into Louis to see how wonderful he really is—as he’d often suspected—he can’t help but notice it almost every single second he’s in his presence. Louis’ just someone that Harry can’t help but sit and admire what he’s like.

He’s starting to think it’s dangerous territory though; every time he sees Louis, whether it’s in Gwidding Hall, in the corridor, or wherever, he gets this feeling in his stomach which is very much unlike how he feels around the other boys.

He’s never felt that way around anyone before, and it scares him a little.

“You tired, Haz?”

Harry is pulled out of his worries by Louis’ soft voice coming from above him, and he realises that his eyes have slipped shut and he’s resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. He slowly opens his eyes and tilts his head up and smiles sleepily.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “A little bit.”

“I’ll leave you to get some sleep then,” Louis says gently, moving to stand up from the bed.

Harry reaches out for the sleeve of Louis’ hoodie following little hesitation. “You can stay over here? If you like.”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a groan coming from the other side of the room.

“Fuckin’ hell, guys; haven’t you sorted out the sleeping arrangements yet?”

Louis turns around to face Niall and Harry peeks around him.

“I mean, up until now it’s always been that you both start in separate beds, and by the time I wake up, you’re sharing. Just start as you mean to go on, for God’s sake.”

Louis raises a questioning eyebrow in Harry’s direction, and Harry responds by tugging harder on the sleeve he still has a grip on, effectively pulling Louis into bed beside him.

 

_“Do you think we get on his nerves?”_

_“Nah. Out of everyone, I’m sure it’s him who wanted us to be together the most.”_

_The arms wrapped around him are toasty warm - never too hot; always like the third bear’s porridge: just right. A hand strokes through his hair._

_“Do you think we need to tone it down?”_

_There’s a sigh. “To tell you the honest truth, baby, I don’t think that would be possible.”_

_He hums. “Really? And why’s that?”_

_“You’re irresistible.”_

 

Harry jumps back into reality with a start, his eyes flying open suddenly. Louis immediately twitches beside him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbles. “Just another one of those weird dreams again.”

Louis pulls Harry tighter to his chest, keeping one arm across the small of his back and letting the other move up to his shoulders so he can get a hand in the younger boy’s hair, gently scratching his scalp. “They’re not scary, are they?”

Harry shakes his head back and forth against the material of Louis’ hoodie. “Just...strange.”

Louis sighs, and Harry knows that the other boy just wants him to explain what’s happening in the dreams—if not to him, then to someone who may be able to help him get rid of them.

The problem is, Harry doesn’t want to get rid of them.

In the dreams, even though he can never see anything, he can feel and hear enough to make him never want to leave. There are always only two voices: his own and another which is soft and warm, like chocolate that has just been melted.

It’s Louis’ voice.

 

~*~

 

Gwidding Hall is completely packed by the time Harry and Louis arrive the following morning, and Zayn, Liam and Niall—who left early so he was sure to get enough bacon—are already sat at the normal table. Harry walks straight over, Louis dragging his feet behind, still wearing the joggers and hoodie he’d slept in. At the sight of only one chair around the table, Louis sits down quickly and pulls Harry into his lap. It’s nothing new to any of them really—they’ve been doing it for the past couple of weeks when there haven’t been enough chairs for all five of them.

“Did you have a nice night?” Louis asks Zayn and Liam casually, spearing a fried potato with his fork and sticking it into his mouth.

“Um, yeah; it was nice, thanks,” Zayn replies, flushing a little, and Harry can see how his arm shifts slightly closer to Liam. (Harry guesses that they must be holding hands under the table.)

“Did you guys do anything fun?” Liam asks.

Nial scoffs. “Hardly. Harry was asleep by nine.”

“ _Heyyy_ ,” Harry drawls. “You went to bed at the same time as we did!”

Niall holds up a hand and swallows his mouthful before speaking. “Doesn’t mean I went to sleep.”

After shifting Harry a little in his lap, Louis sends Niall a sarcastic look. “I could hear you snoring. In fact, I reckon you were asleep first.”

“Wait a minute—”

As a debate commences between Niall and Louis, Harry leans back a little in Louis’ arms, deciding not to get involved.

(Besides, he knows that it’s Louis who’s right about this; Niall’s snoring is hard to ignore.)

 

~*~

 

On the day of Louis and Niall’s first football match of the season, Harry might just be more nervous than the two of them put together.

After pacing up and down the room for a good few minutes, he is told to sit down by Zayn and Liam in unison.

“How much longer until we leave?” Harry asks, jiggling his leg up and down nervously.

Liam shrugs. “We can go now, if you like?” he suggests, and Zayn sighs.

“As long as you’re not this bad once we’re actually out there,” he says, standing up and pulling on his jacket. “I doubt Louis needs a cheerleader.”

Harry flushes, not making eye-contact with either of the boys as he pulls on a hoodie and re-ties the knot in the navy blue scarf in his hair.

 

The air has a bit of a chill to it out on the field, and Harry can’t help but feel bad for the team, who would have to be wearing shorts and t-shirts for the whole ninety minutes.

As he, Zayn and Liam find their place to watch the match, Harry is still whittling and, on a bit of a whim, he jogs straight across to the edge of the pitch where the team is already warming up, calling across to Louis. The other boy immediately looks up from where he was concentrating on his kick-ups and lets the ball fall to the ground before he’s disappearing and reappearing in front of Harry.

“What’s up, Haz?” Louis asks, grin brightening his features.

Harry stands there for a moment, and when the words don’t come to him, he just pulls Louis into a hug instead. The older boy smells like grass and just Louis, and Harry thinks about how it would be nice to not have to let go.

“Good luck, Lou,” he eventually whispers into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis chuckles. “I doubt you have any more luck to give me, babe, but thank you.”

Harry blushes, not just at the fact that Louis has actually realised quite how many times Harry had already wished him luck, but also because he couldn’t help but zone out once ‘ _babe_ ’ had left Louis’ mouth.

“Um, well, I...um.” He stumbles over his words, but Louis fortunately saves him by reaching up and running a finger along the scarf in his hair like he had done all those weeks ago in Doncaster.

“You’re gonna be my little good luck charm, I’m sure,” he says softly, and Harry feels his skin getting even hotter under his fond gaze.  

Before anymore can be said, a whistle is being blown,  and Louis’ expression looks regretful as he sighs and drops his hand.

“You’ll stay after, yeah?” he asks.

Harry grins. “As if I’d be anywhere else.”

 

~*~

 

When the match is finally over, Harry watches as Louis is engulfed in a massive group hug by his teammates before Zayn and Liam are tugging him closer to the pitch.

“Niall!” Zayn yells, sprinting over to the group and pulling Niall out to wrap him up in a hug, Liam joining in on the embrace not much later. As Harry contemplates doing the same, there are arms wrapping around him from behind and a voice mumbling,

“We won, you know.”

Harry smiles and turns around to hug Louis properly. “You were amazing!”

“All thanks to my lucky charm,” Louis replies. He pulls back a little to ask, “You coming to the party later?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I’m inviting you, so you have to come then, right?” Louis grins, knowing that Harry often struggles to say no to him.

 

Harry might just be having his first proper experience of being drunk.

It’s not his first time drinking alcohol—his mum had previously allowed him to every now and again, and Niall had already been a bit of a bad influence a few times already—but he’s sure that he’s never had this much. He’s not even sure how much he’s actually had.

“Louuuuuuis!” he exclaims, throwing his arms around Louis’ neck. “Dance?”

Louis’ hands immediately move to Harry’s waist. “Maaaaybe…” he drawls, already moving the two of them side-to-side a little.

After a beat, Harry asks, “Decided yet?”

Louis just grins, takes one of Harry’s hands from behind his neck and pulls him over to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the common room (which Harry’s never seen the inside of before, due to the fact that it’s normally sixth-formers only).  At first, there’s a good distance between the two of them, and Harry remembers how he actually has no idea how to dance. He awkwardly shuffles back-and-forth slightly, and it doesn’t take long for Louis to roll his eyes dramatically and pull Harry closer, fanning his hands out across the younger boy's hips. Harry lets out a small gasp in surprise at the action, but melts into the embrace like he always does, grateful when Louis takes charge.

Only one song has passed by the time that Louis dips his head and presses his lips against the side of Harry’s neck, not even kissing, but just holding them there; a constant warm pressure that produces a buzzing under Harry’s skin that doesn’t fade in intensity. There’s a brief flash of panic within him at that, having completely no idea of where this is going—if anywhere—and what he’s supposed to do in response. Unfortunately, he’s rendered speechless, and he can’t do anything other than let it happen until Louis eventually moves back a little and grins.

“You okay?” he asks, acting as if he hadn’t just had his mouth pressed against Harry’s skin in a way that was not entirely platonic.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He attempts to swallow away the lump in his throat, but it won’t budge. In a form of explanation, he points over to the table where the drinks are all lined up, moves out of Louis’ arms and scuttles away, a constant worry in his head that _something_ may be giving away quite how turned on he is.

“Looked like fun,” a voice says from beside him, and he jumps, turning to his right to see Zayn stood there with a knowing smirk on his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, but—"

“I’m afraid it’s only Liam that knows that for certain,” Zayn cuts in, and Harry sighs.

“ _Okay_ , I can take a pretty good guess at what you’re thinking, but he’s drunk. I’m drunk. I’ve never _been_ drunk before. How am I supposed to know what will happen?”

Zayn hesitates before speaking. “I’m going to say this now, under the assumption that you won’t remember this in the morning, okay?”

Harry nods slowly, having no idea where Zayn may be going with this.

“Don’t let anything happen tonight, okay? Now isn’t the time. The right time will come, and you’ll know about it, but this—right now—isn’t right.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” Zayn says, and in the next moment he’s being whisked away by Liam, back onto the dance floor, leaving Harry alone with a cup of vodka and orange juice, and a whole load of confusion mixing in with the alcohol in his bloodstream.

 

~*~

 

“This isn’t fair,” Harry grumbles. Tucking his knees underneath his chin and letting out a heavy sigh. “Why did it have to be today, of all days?”

Liam chuckles. “Essay or not, you wouldn’t have been able to go anyway.”

“I suppose so.” The response is muffled by the fabric of Harry’s jeans. “I just wish I could be there to support him, you know?”

“I’m sure he knows that you feel that way, Haz.”

Harry nods, and after a moment decides to stand up from the bed and make his way over to his desk, where his essay plan is laid out with all of his notes. “What even is the point of this?”

“You were the one that chose it,” Liam reminds him, and Harry scowls, piling up the papers and leaving the room after announcing that he’s going to work in the library.

 

~*~

 

The essay takes a whopping four hours to complete, and by the end of it, Harry is exhausted. He leans back in his seat and pushes the computer mouse a little to the right to wake the screen. Deciding that the best thing to do for the rest of the day would be to relax with a good book before Louis and Niall get back, he clicks on the library database and starts scrolling through the massive list of novels and textbooks. When he’s nearing the end, one title in particular catches his eye:

_‘Soulmatery: The Beginning’._

Where every other book has a field to separate the fictional books from the non-fictional, Harry sees that this one simply has _‘?’_ beside it. Curious, Harry enters a question mark into the ‘ _Fiction/Non-Fiction_ ’  field in the advanced search, only having to wait a couple of seconds before the results show.

There are three books that fit the search, and each one is about Soulmatery.

When Harry returns to his room, all three books in his arms, he gasps in surprise when he is met with the sight of Liam and Zayn snogging passionately on Zayn’s bed. At the sound, the two of them separate and their eyes widen in shock at Harry’s presence, followed by them simultaneously ducking their heads in embarrassment.

“Um,” Harry squeaks, “I finished my essay!”

As Liam continues to look down at the duvet cover as if it were an enthralling piece of artwork, Zayn peeks up through his eyelashes in a way that tells Harry it would probably be best to leave at this point.

“I’ll, um,” Harry clears his throat, “leave you to it, then.”

Liam immediately looks up, eyes still a little wide. “No, don’t go—it’s alright. Have you heard anything from Lou or Niall yet?”

Harry shakes his head. “Nope. It’ll be a while until they’re home, I think.”

“Bet you’re getting Louis-withdrawal, aren’t you?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow.

Harry’s face feels hot and he looks down at his feet. “Don’t be stupid.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, I _will_ give you some space; I’ve got some reading to do.”

The two boys other boys exchange a look.

“Anything good?” Liam asks slowly.

Harry chuckles. “Why ask when you already know?”

When he doesn’t receive much of a response apart from more exchanged looks between the two of them, it makes him a tad nervous.

“Is something wrong?” he asks cautiously.

Liam turns to Zayn one last time and bites his lip; Zayn nods.

“Is there a particular reason why you’ve chosen those, Harry?” Liam eventually says, as if Harry’s holding three books about becoming a criminal mastermind in his hands.

“Um..it, uh, sounds interesting?” he mumbles, his sentence coming out as a question as he is entirely unsure about what the right answer is in this situation.

Liam sighs and pats the space at the end of Zayn’s bed, gesturing for him to sit down.

“Zayn told you something he wasn’t supposed to, didn’t he?”

“ _Hey!_ ” Zayn exclaims. “Someone was gonna say something eventually!”

Liam pats a hand on Zayn’s knee. “I know, but—”

“Do you mean that whole thing with it ‘not being the right time’?” Harry has a faded recollection of the conversation; only fragments of it returning to him once the initial headache of his hangover had faded.

Zayn sighs. “Yeah, I...it wasn’t really the best thing to say.”

“I didn’t really understand what you meant to be honest,” Harry says. “And I don’t know what any of this has to do with what I’m reading.”

“Zayn,” Liam turns to look at him, “you’re the expert.”

After a moment of thought, Zayn finally begins to explain properly.

 

 ~*~

When people are in a hurry, it is common for them to get a feeling that they’ve forgotten something and left it behind.

That’s how Harry constantly feels when he starts to avoid Louis.

He didn’t plan on making a big deal out of it, really; it would’ve been so much easier for him to just forget about everything that Liam and Zayn told him, and act like nothing had happened. If Harry was capable of doing that, he and Louis would be getting on just fine right now.

Harry thinks that Louis must’ve first realised that the younger boy was avoiding him a couple of mornings after the away match, when there were only four chairs around their table in Gwidding Hall, and Harry still went to find another one instead of sitting on Louis’ lap like he normally would. Louis had just frowned a little at that, mouthing, _‘are you okay?’_ across the table to Harry, and attempting to accept it when Harry just replied with a nod.

It’s sort of tricky really; acting different around the boy who may as well be his best friend. A big part of him still gets the urge to just reach out and throw an arm around Louis’ shoulder, or give him a hug, but Harry puts every ounce of effort into refraining from doing so.

Louis looks so broken every time, and Harry feels awful.

However, it only takes a week or so for Louis to start acting the same in return, making Harry wonder whether something - or someone - has given away what he can’t seem to stop thinking about.

As much as it is something that Harry would like Louis to be thinking about, it’s also something that could come between them and cause even more damage than it already has.

“You’re gonna have to start talking to him properly at some point, you know.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t see why.”

“Honestly, what is the problem here?” Niall asks. “Yeah, Zayn and Liam have been putting all these ideas in your head”--he ignores the indignant sound coming from the other side of the room--“but why don’t you just ask him about it?”

Harry huffs. “And he’s just going to say, ‘yup, same here’, right?”

Niall doesn’t have an immediate response to that as such, but it’s moments later when the blond haired boy is standing up and pulling Harry out of the room, dragging him down the corridor, up the stairs and along the hall to Louis and Liam’s room in complete silence. He then proceeds to disappear, and Harry has a brief thought of whether he may have turned into a floor tile so he can listen in.

The door suddenly opens then, and it’s Louis who’s stood on the other side, looking confusedly at Harry.

“Harry? What’s up?”

Harry remains silent for a moment, trying to come up with a reason for him being there. “I, uh, was wondering if you’d help me with some maths homework?”

Louis shrugs. “I can do my best, I suppose.” He steps aside and lets Harry past him.

The two of them sit cross-legged on Louis’ bed, Louis waiting expectantly for…well, Harry assumes that it’s for him to explain what he needs help with, or at least produce a worksheet from his jeans (that only have fake pockets anyway).

“Um…so what can I help you with?”

There’s a pause as Harry considers pretending that he’s all of a sudden figured out how to get past what he was struggling with to get out of there as quickly as possible—so he can go and kill Niall, probably—but then decides to just come out with it.

“You know it, don’t you?”

Louis mouth opens and closes before he’s frowning and looking down to pick at the denim of his jeans. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 _Jesus._ Harry isn’t the violent type, but he’s certainly considering getting his hands around Louis’ throat in a moment. Instead, he just stands up from the bed and paces over to the window, leaning on the sill and looking out over the courtyard. “You’re just... _ugh_.”

Louis scoffs. “Likewise.”

His dismissive tone makes Harry turn around, his eyes narrowing into dark slits. “What?”

“I’m not the one that's been acting weird lately. I know what the lads said to you - I’m not an idiot.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it yet?” Harry presses.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared? Why are you—?”

“Because I don’t want you!”

Louis’ exclamation causes the room to fall into a painful silence as Harry feels himself being ripped to shreds on the inside. He’s been planning out this moment for the past few weeks; thinking about what he’d say and how Louis would respond - but the conversation is barely five minutes in, and they’re already off-script.

They’re not even looking each other in the eye, but Harry can see the older boy’s shoulders moving up and down on every breath, his hands fisted into the hem of his jumper. It’s a sight that makes Harry’s heart want to swell at the endearing mannerism, but it’s too wrecked to do any other than try and keep Harry’s blood moving.

“You don’t want me?” Harry whispers and then perches on the arm of the chair by Louis’ bed for fear of his knees buckling.

Louis shakes his head. “Not in that way, no.”

“But Giselle and Lucas—”

There’s a split second when Louis disappears from view, but Harry has barely any time to worry that he’s apparated elsewhere before he appears right in front of him, his eyes dark and stormy beneath long eyelashes. “What about Giselle and Lucas? My parents were practically Giselle and fucking Lucas, and look where it got them! They sacrificed everything to make their relationship work, and were together just long enough to get married and have me but then _bam!_ In comes the goddamn Normals and they get locked away and tortured for a few days before they’re finally killed. If you want a Romeo and Juliet story Harry, you’ve got it right there—but that’s not us. That’ll _never_ be us.”

“But what if we’re—?”

A hand covers Harry’s mouth immediately, pressing hard enough that Harry has to breathe through his nose. “Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence. We’re not. Even if we were, I still wouldn’t want you.” The last few words are spat in Harry’s face before the older boy disappears completely, and Harry knows that he isn’t coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I know you may have a lot of unanswered questions, but the next chapter will be here sooner than you think, so hopefully you won't be left confused for too long!!)
> 
>  
> 
> [{Tumblr}](truthtattoos.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was I saying about the next chapter being here sooner than you think? Well, here it is! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

 

When Harry gets back to his room, Niall is sat on one bed, talking to Zayn on another. Their voices are hushed, but as soon as they notice Harry in the doorway, pale-faced with red eyes, they stop and stare at him for a few moments.

"You alright, mate?"

Harry still has a lump in his throat, so he sticks to just nodding before walking across to his bed and slumping down on it.

"So, um,” Niall shifts in his seat, “how did it go?”

"I'd rather not talk about it," Harry mumbles. "Would it be okay if I just went to sleep?"

Zayn and Niall exchange a look before Zayn smiles gently. "You don't need to ask, H. Niall and I will leave you to it."

Harry had sort of wanted them to stay so he had some company, but he doesn’t stop them when they stand up, take their coats from the hook on the back of the door and leave the room, turning the light off on their way out. Once he has removed his jeans and shirt, Harry pulls back the sheets on his bed and climbs in, snuggling under them and hoping that this will help him clear his mind of everything Louis had said to him. He’s mostly sure that it won’t.

~*~

Harry wakes up to a gentle hand brushing through his hair, and he automatically moves into it, immediately feeling comforted after his horrible night’s sleep. He craves the warmth of its touch and is instantly reminded of Louis.

“Hi, Lou,” he mumbles, his mouth wide as he yawns.

“It’s, uh, not Louis,” says what is decidedly Zayn’s voice, followed by an awkward chuckle. “I just came to ask if you wanted to come down for breakfast, or if you want us to bring something back.”

Harry’s eyes snap open, his vision blurry as he looks up at Zayn.

Breakfast.

Louis.

_Shit._

“Louis will be there,” Harry croaks in lieu of an answer.

“Uh, maybe?” Zayn says gently. “Is that a no, then?”

“Can I please have waffles?”

Zayn sighs, his eyebrows still gathered together in the middle. “Of course you can, H.”

When the door is shut, Harry rolls onto his side, breathing in the scent of the pillow on the other side of the bed that smells like Louis’ Lynx Chocolate deodorant. He’d left a can in their room one time after staying over, and Harry occasionally uses it if he can’t find his, but at the moment it’s the last thing he wants to be smelling.

Why is he such an idiot? Why did he even bring it up? He’s gone and ruined everything now, and Louis will be even worse with him than before - maybe even as bad as he was when Harry was still new to Muisar.

God, he hopes not.

“Oh, Haz,” an Irish-accented voice suddenly says, and a pen hits the floor before Niall is stood in the middle of the room. “I hate seeing you unhappy.”

Harry sighs, plucking at the material of the pillowcase. “I’m fine.”

Niall purses his lips. “You’re clearly not.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Harry asks, instead of talking about how not-fine he is. “It’s breakfast time you know.”

“You being sad is more important than my tummy being sad,” Niall says as he sits on the edge of Harry’s bed. Harry appears unable to do anything but smile at that comment, unbelievably overwhelmed with how much of an incredible friend Niall is. _See_ , this is what a friend is. Not some stupid, annoying, cute, lovable... _twat_ like Louis is. (Harry’s sure that his mind has never sounded quite so teenager-y.)

“I sometimes wish you were my soulmate, Ni,” Harry mumbles.

Niall holds a hand against his heart. “Only sometimes? Oh, how you wound me!”

Harry rolls his eyes before reaching over to Niall and pulling him into a hug, pressing kisses all over his blond shock of hair.

“Ew, ew!” Niall exclaims, weakly trying to push Harry off. “Get away from me!”

Harry eventually sits back again, a soft smile on his face as Niall grins at him.

“Can I tell you something, Harry?”

“Anything.”

“I really hope Zayn brings me some waffles back too.”

~*~

_A Magic only has half a soul within them; the other half can only belong to their soulmate…_

_...through separation, one may feel lost - like they have left something important behind…._

_...when in the presence of their soulmate, an individual is always conscious of their actions and how they may influence their other half…_

_...what is a Magic without their soulmate?_

_Lost._

“Harry?”

Harry looks up from his book and smiles weakly at Zayn, who is watching him intently. “You alright?” 

“It’s Wednesday,” Zayn starts. “I’ve asked Mr Hart, and, well, if you want, you can come with me to Soulmatery class...only if you want to, it just seems like you’re interested, and—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interjects.

“Really?” Zayn smiles. “Even after…?”

Harry nods fiercely. “Maybe if I know more about it, I’ll learn how to get over it.”

Zayn opens his mouth to say something else, but pauses, turning to grab one of Harry’s jackets from the hook by the door. “Let’s go then,” he says, holding it out to him.

Harry takes it and smile gratefully, hoping that he’s making the right decision by doing this.

~*~

Just one hour of Soulmatery is enough to teach Harry that there is no way that he can possibly let Louis go. He learnt enough about what living without a soulmate can do to a Magic to persuade him to sort out what has happened between them. He wouldn’t ever wish that sort of pain onto anybody—especially Louis.

He has no idea what he’s going to do, but if he knows anything, it’s that he needs Louis in his life somehow—even if it’s just a friend. It is a complete mystery how they’ll start speaking to one another again after their last encounter—along with the fact that Harry hasn’t even seen Louis for the past four days—but something needs to happen, and Harry can only hope that it’ll be fate that gives him a helping hand once again.

~*~

A quiet succession of knocks echo around the dark room and make Harry sit up suddenly, wondering who it could possibly be at this time. Unsure of what to do, he waits for another sound, perhaps as an indication to whom it might be.

The knocks simply repeat themselves, so Harry reaches over to his bedside table to turn on the lamp and see if the others are awake too, but just as Harry realises that the other two beds in the room are empty, there are more knocks—this time much louder in volume.

"Okay, okay—I'm coming," Harry grumbles, clambering out of bed and shuffling over to the door.

It's Louis. Wet-haired, damp-clothed Louis.

"Can I come in?" he asks, teeth chattering.

Despite the nature of their last meeting, Harry feels unable to do any other than open the door wider and let him past. He shuts the door behind the older boy.

"Well, this was obviously planned, so what's your speech?" Harry asks as he wanders around the room, picking up miscellaneous objects and kicking others.

"Uh, no; I... I just decided to—what the fuck are you doing?"  Louis' eyes are wide as he watches Harry amusedly.

“What do you think?” Harry asks, pressing his foot against the leg of his desk chair and listening for the sound of pain it would produce if it really was just Niall being nosy. “They must’ve known that you were coming for them to disappear like that.”

“Well, I didn’t know I was coming over until I… _Liam_.” Louis sighs. “Remind me why we’re friends with a telepathic knobhead again?”

Harry rolls his eyes and gives up on his search. “Because he could read the thoughts of a criminal mastermind and save Earth from eternal destruction.”

“Ah, yes—good thing I’ve got you to remind me, Styles.”

At Louis’ grin, Harry plops down on the edge of his bed and lets out a heavy breath. “Why are you here, Louis?”

The older boy’s face falls, and his eyes drop to his soaked-through Vans where he kicks them back-and-forth on the carpet, his shoulders moving in a shrug. “I’ve sort of been noticing how you’re not there with me all of the time, and I’m not a fan.”

“Is that your way of saying you miss me?”

Louis’ eyes flick up to Harry for a second before moving away as a small smile appears on his closed lips. “Steady on, Harold.”

There’s a moment of silence when Harry doesn’t really notice the mirroring smile appearing on his own face before he’s mumbling, “I miss you too,” and after a second: “but you were an arsehole.”

A soft sigh leaves Louis’ lips and he stands up from his perch, taking a few steps closer to the younger boy. “I know.”

Harry remains seated, but turns to look up at Louis. “You made me feel stupid, and inadequate, and—”

“Inadequate?”

“Well, according to you, I’m not good enough to be your soulmate, so yes—inadequate.”

Louis bites his lip. “I really didn’t mean it in that way.”

“I’m not sure what other way there was for me to take it,” Harry mutters, already feeling the ashamed embarrassment he had felt before crawling over his bones once more and making his stomach drop in an oh so painful manner.  

Louis doesn't say a word; Harry's sure that he's never seen the older boy looking quite so small where he stands just a few feet away, awkwardly shuffling on his feet—full of energy, in spite of the situation.

Harry decides to fill the gap. "I know I don’t know a lot about what happened to your parents, but I’m sure they wouldn't want you to ignore the opportunity to fall in love with your soulmate. Did you know that only fifty-two percent of Magics actually get to meet their soulmates?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "You're like a bloody Soulmatery textbook."

Harry ignores that comment. _What's so wrong with knowing a lot about Soulmatery?_ "What I'm trying to say, Lou, is that you really shouldn't pass up the chance to..." Harry trails off for a moment, preparing himself to say what he needs to. The next few words could make or break everything that he has with Louis. The pairs of soulmates he'd spoken to in the lesson earlier told him that a lot of Magics feel like this is the moment their whole life has been leading up to. He understands that, but all he is hoping for is a positive outcome from this situation.

He also has a feeling that he's not going to get that.

Taking a deep breath—and realising that Louis hasn’t moved since Harry’s last words—Harry speaks once again. “You shouldn’t pass up that chance, because what if your soulmate was right here in front of you, waiting for _their_ soulmate?”

Louis’ next comment is so quiet, Harry is incredibly grateful for the otherwise silence in the room. “You really, _honestly_ , think I’m your soulmate?”

The tone of that question is so unreadable, Harry’s completely unsure as to whether he’s about to be ridiculed or agreed with, so he speaks the truth.

One simple word.

“Yes.”

Yet another thanks goes out to the quiet of the room, as Harry hears Louis’ breath hitch softly before the older boy is taking a few more steps closer, stopping right in front of where Harry is still sat on the edge of his bed.

“And you want that?” Louis whispers, leaning down slightly towards the other boy.

Nervous energy surrounds the two of them in a cloud; choking them and inhibiting their ability to speak. Their eyes flicker around quickly, but then their gazes lock and they both have something within them that tells them that ‘ _this is it’_.

Harry nods, and before he has chance to say anything, Louis’ lips are covering his forcefully. They remain unmoving for a few seconds, but then Harry gently nudges his lips against Louis’ and opens his mouth a little. There's a split second of panic where Louis pulls back in surprise, but Harry just reaches up to tug at the front of his damp jumper and pull him closer.

According to the books that Harry has been studying thoroughly for the past few days, a Soulmatery bond—if present—will make itself known after thirty seconds. Harry starts counting down in his head.

_25...24...23…_

Louis’ lips move cautiously against the younger boy’s as he gingerly rests his palm on Harry’s thigh, squeezing it slightly every now and again to keep his balance. The grip Harry has on his jumper appears to be throwing him off.

_18...17...16…_

As the two of them begin to relax into each other even more, Harry has a fleeting thought that he might not even pull away when the thirty seconds are up and the bond hasn’t happened. That makes him panic though— _has he actually made a fool of himself and said he’s Louis’ soulmate when he’s really not?_

_7...6...5…_

When Louis wobbles again, Harry boldly releases Louis’ jumper and reaches around to the back of Louis’ thighs with both hands instead, tugging him forwards so they’re as close together as possible.

_3...2...1…_

_Nothing._

Harry knows that Louis has been counting too when he feels the older boy’s lips freeze against his, before Louis is pulling away with a quiet, wet noise.

“So, we’re not soulmates?” he says softly, his voice seeming too loud in the room as he stumbles backwards from Harry.

Harry’s mouth is dry, and he struggles to croak out his next words. “There has to be some sort of mistake…”

“Yeah.” Louis sighs, and Harry has a moment of hope when he realises that Louis is pretty deflated too, until he adds, “The mistake was yours.”

Everything comes crashing down then, and Harry feels as if he could cry. He feels so stupid—it must’ve all been wishful thinking to even dream of Louis being his soulmate. Why would Harry be given the opportunity to be that lucky anyway?

He raises a hand and reaches out towards Louis, waiting for the other boy to pull away, but he doesn’t and Harry feels it straight away—a magnetic sensation drawing him closer to Louis’ body that could be none other than a lingering bond. His eyes widen.

“Kiss me, Louis.”

“What, why? We already know tha—”

Harry jumps up onto his feet and takes one large step towards Louis before interrupting him with another kiss. Louis can’t even fight it; he just melts in Harry’s embrace, gripping onto the younger boy’s arms and letting out a soft sound of pleasure.

It’s sudden, but only mere seconds later, there’s a sound as loud as a crack of thunder echoing in the room, and Harry feels it reverberating inside of him before the buzzing starts in his stomach and his extremities tingle like he’s been sat in the same position for too long. His legs buckle, but so do Louis’, and they both tumble into a pile on the floor, lips now centimetres apart.

“Thank fucking God,” Louis mumbles, staring at Harry’s lips.

Harry has a grin on his face that’s hard to wipe off. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“Would it be completely cheesy to say that I think I’ve wanted you from the start?”

“Yes.” Harry giggles.

Louis kisses him again, and the two of them raise up onto their shaky knees despite the continuous fizzing going on inside of each of them. Harry can feel his toes and fingertips going numb when the tip of Louis’ tongue touches his, and he’s fairly sure that his brain has turned to mush as well.

In fact, that's very likely, because when the two of them pull apart for breath, something flies past Harry’s ear and crashes into the bedpost, closely followed by numerous other miscellaneous items.

“Holy shit; what wa—?”

The rest of Louis’ comment is cut off when the two of them see darkness for a split second before they open their eyes and realises that they are now on the grass near the courtyard outside.

Louis licks his lips. “Well, you’re the Soulmatery expert.”

Harry clears his throat and drops back on his heels, watching Louis carefully—almost as if he’s about to disappear from view. “I read that in some cases, Magics lose control over their powers when a bond is being formed—maybe that’s why my room is probably wrecked now, and my arse is soaked.”

Letting out a huff of laughter, Louis stands and holds out his hand to help Harry up. As soon as their skin meets, Harry feels the magnetic pull again, dragging him towards the older boy and making him not want to let go.

"Fancy taking us back then?"  Harry's voice is soft, hardly believing in what's happening as Louis tangles their fingers together with a smile on his face.

"Depends." Louis grins wolfishly. "Do I get another kiss?"

Harry doesn't reply; he just stumbles slightly closer to the older boy and presses their lips together. When their eyes open again, they're in Harry's bedroom—which certainly isn't in the way they left it.

"What are we going to do with all of this?" Harry asks desperately as he looks at the clutter covering the floor.

"Just leave it." Louis wraps his arms around Harry and kisses his neck.

"I can't." Harry sighs. "Help me?"

Louis rolls his eyes but almost immediately starts helping with tidying up. Harry just watches for a moment, taking in how willing Louis is to help, despite the fact that Louis is definitely someone who doesn't enjoy cleaning. (He's seen Louis and Liam's room; seen the separation between two halves because Liam won't do anything to sort out the messiness that is Louis' half.)

“What are you grinning at?” he asks after a time, looking over his shoulder from where he’s crouched on the floor by the desk, a pot of pencils in his hand.

“It’s interesting to see our bond in action.” Harry smirks.

There’s a moment where Louis seems to not have understood, but then he drops the pot, sending the pencils everywhere again and jumps onto his feet. “You’re using some sort of weird mind-control thing, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t quite the response Harry was expecting, so it only takes a second before there’s a sharp laugh breaking through his lips. “You what?”

“I bet you’re telling me to do the cleaning up for you right now, all…in your head, like.”

Harry shakes his head. “Besides, it’s Liam that does all the mind control.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis sighs. “He doesn’t control minds, H; he just reads them.”

“Same thing.”

There’s a pause, in which Harry continues what Louis started with the tidying up.

“So you weren’t controlling me?” Louis mumbles after a time.

Harry stops, turning to look at the boy who still seems incredibly worried by all of the soulmate stuff. “Even if I could, Lou, I wouldn’t. Your mind belongs to you—no one else should be allowed access to it without your permission.”

Louis lets out a sigh of relief, his lips turning upwards in a slight smile before he bends down to pick up the pencils he’d dropped.

**  
**  


~*~

“He was right. I can’t bloody believe it.”

The sound of Niall’s voice at around half ten in the morning isn’t exactly welcome in Harry’s opinion, but then again, he’s in the place he’s wanted to be for a long time now, so he can’t complain. Louis’ arms tighten around him instinctively, and Harry—keeping his eyes closed—snuggles deeper into his chest, breathing in the older boy’s scent.

“I have a feelin’ that they’re gonna be a pretty disgusting couple,” Niall continues, and Harry can practically hear Zayn’s nod of agreement.

“They’re soulmates; what do you expect?”

“I dunno—I guess I haven’t been around soulmates very much before.”

Before the conversation has chance to continue, Harry decides to make his consciousness known, stretching and yawning exaggeratedly—and it appears that Louis had the same idea...the exact same idea.

“Jesus Christ, that was creepy,” Niall comments, stepping further away from the bed that the two boys are lying on.

“It’s like you’re a set of twins from a horror film,” Zayn adds.

Harry shrugs guiltily as Louis chuckles. “Sorry about that.”

Niall drags Louis out of the room not long after that so they can go and warm up for football later, and Harry is left with Zayn, who grins at him.

“So have you saved a date yet then?”

Harry sighs. “I really don’t think we’re going to be like that.”

Zayn’s perfectly shaped eyebrows furrow together. “And why would you think that?”

After taking a deep breath, Harry explains about how his and Louis’ first kiss didn’t go exactly to plan, and how Louis seems to still be a bit wary of the whole idea of soulmates. It’s something that is worrying Harry quite a lot—especially as he’s so dedicated to the concept of soulmates himself, and it’s important to him to find someone who feels the same way about him as he does about them. He can definitely see himself falling in love with Louis, but it seems less likely for Louis to fall for him.

Harry also can’t help but be a tad worried at how things have changed so much between them in the course of about two and a half months; they’ve gone from not really getting on, to being sort-of friends, to best friends, to ignoring each other and then to...well, whatever it is that they are now.

“Well, first off, I wouldn’t worry about the first kiss thing. It doesn’t apply to everyone, and sometimes it takes a while for the bond to click fully. A full bond is never there from the start, remember? And forget about Louis being a dickhead— he’s always been like that.”

“With good reason,” Harry defends.

“Perhaps with the soulmate thing, but he has no reason to treat you like shit. If a soul bond is what the two of you share, neither of you can help that.”

Well, that’s reassurance if Harry’s ever heard it.

**  
**  


~*~

Once he’s finished packing his bag, Harry swings it over his shoulder and leaves his room, locking the door behind him and making his way downstairs.

“Haz!”

Harry turns to his left to see Louis jogging towards him, his rucksack on one shoulder and bumping against his back.

“Hi, Lou,” Harry replies, his eyes widening when Louis leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

“Good morning,” Louis says quietly when he’s pulled back a few centimetres. He takes in Harry’s expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Truth is, the two of them had barely seen each other the day before after their friends found them cuddling on Harry’s bed, so the romantic gesture is still one that Harry assumed Louis would be cautious of—especially in public. Don’t get him wrong, Harry certainly doesn’t mind a little bit of PDA every now and again, but Louis’ the last person he would’ve expected to be an active participant in doing so.

“I wasn’t expecting you to kiss me,” Harry murmurs, flushing slightly.

Louis’ eyebrows furrow a little. “Did you not want me to?”

Instead of answering with words, Harry reaches out for Louis’ tie with the hand that isn’t holding the strap of his bag on his shoulder and pulls him closer again, this time keeping their lips together for longer than before. When Louis makes a small sound into Harry’s mouth, the younger boy pulls back quickly, looking at him worriedly.

“I’m sorry—was that too much?”

Louis’ cheekbones become dusted with a light pink. “Uh, no, H…That wasn’t me telling you to stop, I—”

“Oh.” _Oh._

Before anything else can be said on that subject, someone is clearing their throat loudly from the other end of the corridor, and both boys turn to the sound, seeing that it is—of all people—Mr Hart.

“Mr Styles. Mr Tomlinson,” he says, a steely tone to his voice. “I don’t believe that is appropriate behaviour for the school corridors, do you?”

Both boys mumble comments along the lines of ‘no sir; sorry sir’ before they see the teacher’s smile.

“Congratulations for the day though, however. It’s a big thing to have found your soulmate—especially at such a young age. It gives you more time together, and every day you’ll fall more and more in love.”

The teacher is gone before anymore is said, and the boys look at one another for a second longer before moving apart.

“So, can I escort you to your classroom, Harold?” Louis asks, a formal lilt to his voice and a twinkle in his eye.

“We’re both in the same first lesson, you dork,” Harry replies, shaking his head fondly.

Louis proceeds to check his imaginary timetable. “That we are—what a joyous coincidence.” He holds out his hand and Harry takes it, tangling their fingers together as they start making their way to their Mental Enhancement class.

~*~

It’s not good that their first lesson as a soulmated pair is one that the two of them have together. Liam keeps rolling his eyes at them as they keep whispering and giggling back and forth, and Harry’s sure that everyone in the classroom must’ve noticed the change. Their aura for one must be incredible; now a joint force rather than a lone cloud desperate to join another. The most embarrassing thing though, is the way Harry jolts every time Louis so much as touches him. Whether it’s a hand on his leg, his arm or his wrist, Harry feels it; that magnetic pull which is always just hovering in the background, waiting for their skin to come into contact, and sparking when it does. Louis must either not feel it, or is covering up his reactions to it, because he just sits there, a smirk on his face as he watches Harry trying to act as normal as he can.

“Mr Styles.” Mr Archer sighs. “I know what’s going on, and I’m happy for you, but you really need to pay attention, yeah?”

“Sorry sir,” Harry replies tensely as Louis splutters out a laugh.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you as well, Louis,” Mr Archer adds, which effectively shuts him up.

They are somewhat more subdued for the rest of the time that Mr Archer is speaking, but when it is announced that they will be starting practical group work, they exchange a grin.

“Okay,” Mr Archer claps his hands together, “everyone get to work!”

As always, Harry and Louis move their chairs around the table so they’re closer to Liam and they start discussing how they’re going to practice their challenge of Ability Sharing.

“You two go first,” Liam decides, leaning back in his chair and crossing something off in his diary.

“Okay,” Harry agrees, turning to Louis with a smile on his face. He already knows how this will work out—his knowledge being proven further by what happened after their first kiss—but he wants to surprise Louis, so just as normal, he asks, “Do you want to go first?”

Louis nods. “Sure.”

The two of them stand up from their seats and move away from the table, standing opposite one another in a mostly empty space in the corner of the classroom. Louis smiles nervously before taking Harry’s hands in his, holding them between their chests as they close the gap between them. Harry watched as Louis closes his eyes; gently at first, before he’s scrunching them up and Harry sees a brief flash of darkness—like a blink—before they’re at the opposite end of the classroom.

“That was great, Lou,” Harry whispers in awe, looking around them for a moment before leaning forward to press a kiss to Louis’ cheek.

Louis’s eyes slowly blink open at the contact, and he lets out a sigh of relief. “I didn’t think I’d done it. It seemed too easy.”

 _Maybe it was._ “Why don’t you try with Liam now?”

It’s not much later when Harry can hear Louis’ sounds of complaint when he keeps teleporting without Liam. Liam waits patiently however, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels as he watches Louis apparate to different ends of the classroom.

“I give up,” Louis announces, flopping into the seat beside Harry and wiping his hands down his face. “My Mental clearly doesn’t like Liam.”

“Or maybe it just likes Harry more,” Liam suggests.

There’s a pause before Harry can practically hear the cogs whirring in Louis’ head and Louis is turning to face him accusingly. “You knew didn’t you?” When Harry remains silent, he continues. “It’s all Soulmate shit, isn’t it?”

Harry still doesn’t say a word and gently takes Louis hands, holding them tight against his chest. “Think about moving something.”

Louis almost looks as if he’s going to roll his eyes and move away, but instead his eyes shift to the right and a pencil jumps out of his pencil case and rolls over to Liam. Their gaze return to one another, and Harry watches Louis’ chest moving up and down with his quick breaths, and his eyes shine in wonder.

“And this, class, is a perfect example of how it should work. Harry and Louis do have the advantage of being soulmates, but they prove that it can be done! Can you show us again, boys?”

Louis is still staring Harry right in the eye, and it’s almost like Harry is hearing their teacher’s voice from underwater—all he can hear properly is Louis’ soft breaths and heartbeat hammering in his chest.

“Uh,” Harry clears his throat, “sure we can.” He raises his eyebrows in Louis’ direction, prompting him to repeat what they did earlier as he holds the other boy’s hands to his chest once again. It’s then that he hears it.

_“Oh shit; I can’t do it again! Harry’s going to be so disappointed. I need to get out of here. I need to leave.”_

There’s a split second before Harry drops their hands and lets Louis go, watching as he dodges his classmates and leaves the room.

“May I—?” he asks Mr Archer.

“Yes, yes, go ahead.”

Harry finds Louis in the nearest toilets, sat on the counter with his head in his hands. The room is completely silent, save for Louis staggered breaths and occasional sighs.

He’s crying.

At that realisation, Harry feels tears building in his eyes, but he blinks them away before striding over to Louis and wrapping his arms around him. Louis’ tiny like this; small and vulnerable as he shivers from the sudden warmth surrounding his frame.

After a while, Harry hears small squeaks over and over that then turn into mumbles against his collarbone.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. I really fucked up; I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Harry whispers, reaching up a hand to stroke over Louis’ soft hair.

“All those people looking at me, I couldn’t...I’m sorry.”

“Shh; you’re fine. You’re fine,” Harry coos as he gently starts to rock Louis side to side, pressing kisses to the boy’s head.

They stay there for a good few minutes; held tightly together while Harry breathes sweet nothings into Louis’ ears. Eventually, Louis pulls back, eyeing Harry curiously.

“How did you know? That I wanted to leave, I mean.”

Harry clears his throat, stalling as he tries to come up with a good explanation. He knows that whatever he says will just make Louis even more iffy about their soulbond. “I felt your worry in your hands, and then I heard you stressing.”

“You heard me?”

“You were thinking that you needed to leave, but I would be disappointed in you.”

Louis freezes, nervously looking down as a light flush shows on his cheeks. “I’m coming to dislike this bond of ours.”

Harry chuckles softly, brushing Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “It’ll come in handy eventually—you watch.”

Louis peeks up at Harry through his eyelashes before gently taking Harry’s hands in his. “What am I thinking now?” he asks.

“Hmm, I believe you’re thinking ‘ _what am I thinking now?’_.”

Louis promptly lets go of one of Harry’s hands to slap him in the arm before taking it again. “Idiot,” he whispers fondly.

Harry grins cheekily before closing his eyes and properly listening this time. It takes a few moments, but then he hears it; soft as a whisper in Louis’ gentle tone.

_“Kiss me.”_

Harry musters up all the energy he can to try and send back an ‘ _Of course_ ,’ before closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together carefully, unsure as to what kind of kiss Louis is expecting. Apparently, careful is not enough, because Louis instantly hitches his legs up and crosses his feet over the back of Harry’s thighs, separating their hands so he can have one fisted in the material of Harry’s school shirt and the other tangled in his curls.

Harry’s all too willing to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [{Tumblr}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I'm so, so sorry about this ridiculously long wait. My reasons include, but are not limited to:  
> \- School  
> \- Work  
> \- Writers block
> 
> I'm hoping to get back into updating regularly *fingers crossed*!!
> 
> So, this is a bit of a rollercoaster ride for you Ziam lovers, but an absolute fluff fest for the Larries!!

The feeling of Louis’ fingers scratching gently against Harry’s scalp is enough to make Harry’s eyes droop closed. He can practically hear Louis’ smile when he mumbles, “You better stop before I drop off, Lou.”

Louis chuckles. “And that’s a problem?”

Slowly blinking his eyes open, Harry looks up at the older boy. “It is when I have a Soulmatery class starting in half an hour.”

“You don’t _have_ to go, do you?” Louis leans down and presses his lips to Harry’s forehead.

Harry shifts a little when Louis moves back, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. It remains chaste—as their kisses always have been for quite a while now—and Harry eventually replies, “I do, yeah. I want to know more about us.”

“Then I suppose I should come too.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I’ve been with Zayn before, and...I want to know what’s actually happening.” Louis shrugs, and Harry can’t stop the smile from appearing on his face as he sits up and wraps his arms around the other boy.

“You really don’t have to, you know.”

Louis rests his hands on Harry’s waist and bumps their noses together softly. “I want to. For you.”

 

~*~

 

“Louis—what a nice surprise!” Mr Hart greets when Harry and Louis enter his classroom. “Rediscovered an interest in Soulmatery, have we? Personal experience?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “What can I say, sir—Harry’s got me hooked.”

Harry takes a seat at the table he normally shares with Zayn, pulling up a chair from nearby so Louis can sit between them. Immediately after, he picks up Louis’ hand and starts playing with his fingers, enjoying the smile that grows on the older boy’s face.

“It’s just so warm in here,” Louis comments, absent-mindedly brushing a curl behind Harry’s ear as he looks around. “This room just contains so much hope and love and...wow. This is real magic, in here.”

Harry smiles, bringing Louis’ hand up to his lips. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Does that mean you’ll—?”

He’s cut off by the appearance of Zayn, who rushes from the door at the back of the classroom, past where they’re sat and towards Mr Hart’s desk. Harry can’t hear what’s being said, but he can see Zayn’s shoulders rising and falling with quick breaths and his hands tugging uncomfortably at the bottom of his hoodie. Turning back to Louis, Harry makes eye contact with him and the two of them nod, silently agreeing that they should do something to help with whatever Zayn is fretting about.

They stand from their seats and hurry over, Louis placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder.

“What’s up, mate?”

Zayn’s eyes widen for a second at the appearance of his friends before he decides to speak. “It’s Liam, he—” His voice cuts off and he pauses; Harry can see his Adam’s apple bobbing. ”He got a letter from his sister. It’s says that they’ve found his soulmate.”

 

~*~

 

When the three boys—along with Mr Hart, who fortunately had someone to cover the Soulmatery lesson—reach Liam and Louis’ room upstairs, the door is locked.

“Liam?” Mr Hart says gently. “It’s Mr Hart. I’m here with Zayn, Louis and Harry. Can we come in?”

The silence runs long, and Harry knows that it’s the time taken for Liam to make a decision.

“Just you and Louis, please,” is the response. Harry and Zayn exchange a look.

Mr Hart teleports inside almost straight away, but Louis holds back, hesitating to shoot an encouraging smile in Zayn’s direction and to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“See you later, yeah?”

Louis then disappears at Harry’s nod, and Harry reaches out to wrap an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. He squeezes him gently in a way that he hopes is comforting and starts leading him away back to their room.

 

They remain silent for the whole walk, and when the silence runs on for a further ten minutes on reaching their destination, Harry pulls his Maths textbook out from under the bed and carries on with the trigonometry questions he had been set on Monday.

It’s hard to focus, knowing that one of his closest friends is at the opposite end of the room, probably hurting.

Zayn and Liam’s situation has always been a confusing one—no one knows just how deep their relationship is, and not many know of it at all. Harry knows that they aren’t soulmates, or if they are, they haven’t established a connection yet. Since he’s known them, Liam’s aura has been a faint lilac cloud, that showed definite strength, but also sensitivity, while Zayn’s has always been a sparkly orange, with occasional splodges of different colours that Harry now knows represent his artistic side. They’ve never been joined in any way.

Harry turns his head slightly, his view partly blocked by the curtain of curls that falls over his eyes, and sees Zayn’s huddled up figure on the far bed, completely motionless. Lips part as Harry contemplates saying something, _anything_ that can make a difference.

Any possibility of sound is interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

 

**From: Niall**

_**where r u guys? didn’t u have soulmatery?** _

**To: Niall**

_**Up in the room, something’s happened with Z+Li x** _

**From: Niall**

_**fuck have they split up?** _

**To: Niall**

_**It’s complicated :/** _

 

Niall is bursting through the door less than two minutes later, and Zayn doesn’t even flinch. Harry switches his gaze to the boy in the doorway, who looks out of breath and confused.

“What?” he mouths, stumbling over to Harry’s bed and plopping down next to him.

While Harry tries to come up with the right thing to say, a voice interrupts.

“Hey, Niall.”

Both Harry and Niall look up in surprise at the sound of Zayn’s voice, shifting a little to look at him properly.

“Uh, hey, man,” Niall replies. “What’s up?”

Zayn chuckles, his back still turned. “Nothing much. Just lost somebody close to me, that’s all.”

Heart clenching, Harry stands and slowly makes his way over to comfort his friend in the way he should have done much earlier. He carefully sits beside Zayn on the edge of his bed, and before he has chance to pull Zayn into a hug, he’s being crushed in the older boy’s embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers into the material of Zayn’s hoodie (which, if he remembers right, was Liam’s in the first place. God).

Zayn doesn’t say anything else; just continues holding Harry tight and pulling Niall into the hug when he gets close enough.

 

~*~

 

Harry’s still awake when Louis appears in the room about two hours later. It’s late, he knows it is, and he’s surprised Louis has still come over.

“Harry?” he hears Louis whisper softly, the sound closely followed by that of his hands patting around on the mattress.

“I’m over here, Lou,” Harry replies from where he’s squashed onto Zayn’s bed with his roommates, Zayn in the middle of him and Niall.

Because Harry’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he can see Louis squinting into it before he whispers, “Why are you—oh.”

Harry presses his lips together and carefully moves off the bed to get back into his own. “He’s sad,” he says softly when he gets there, snuggling into Louis’ arms.

Louis hums into Harry’s hair. “I would be too.”

“How’s Liam?”

“Pretty blank, I guess. I don’t think he knows how to feel.”

A huff of breath leaves Harry’s lips. “It’s just so heartbreaking.”

Remaining silent, Louis pulls Harry impossibly closer, pressing his face further into the younger boy’s curls.

 

~*~

 

For days and days on end, there are only three of them. Harry may occasionally see Liam or Zayn around school and in the lessons he shares with them, but it’s always just a glance, and an occasional smile that is clearly forced. An identical barrier surrounds each of them that says: ‘give me some space’, so that’s what Harry decides it would be best to do. He doesn’t even know where Zayn has started sleeping at night.

 

~*~

 

It’s nearing the end of lunchtime when Niall decides to tell Harry that he won’t be there for the Flight lesson later that day.

“Ugh, _why?_ ” Harry grumbles, not particularly liking the idea of enduring an hour of Flight without a close friend. He doesn’t exactly enjoy it as it is.

It’s Louis who pipes up then. “The match has been brought forward to tomorrow, so today’s our last chance for a proper practice.”

Harry scowls. “Was this your idea, Louis?”

“Louis?” Louis raises an eyebrow in surprise at the lack of nickname, and grins. “And, no; it wasn’t. I’m just enthusiastic because having a match on a Saturday means that I might be able to have a lovely long lie-in with my boyfriend on Sunday.”

Harry’s not blushing. He’s not.

Before anything else can be said, the sound of Niall fake-gagging on the other side of the table brings the two of them out of their little bubble.

“Ugh, I really need new friends,” he says. “I swear you two get worse every day.”

The grinning sort of gives him away though.

 

~*~

 

Harry’s Flight lesson ends five minutes earlier than normal, and he’s the first out of the door, having been desperate for the lesson to end ever since it started. As soon as he has left the classroom however, he stops in his tracks.

“Liam,” he says softly. “You—”

“I just came to say goodbye,” Liam interrupts.

“Goodbye?” Harry frowns. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to see my family for a while. I’m not entirely sure when I’ll be back, but I just need to spend some time with them and sort some stuff out.”

“But Zayn—”

“Will be fine,” Liam finishes. “It’s only making it harder for him with us seeing each other every day. I doubt I’ll be away too long anyway; it’ll be the right amount of time for both of us to move on and go back to the way things were before...any of this.”

Harry nods in understanding, hesitating barely a second before taking the final step forward to give Liam a hug. “Look after yourself, yeah?”

“Of course. I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

~*~

 

Harry really thinks he could get used to this.

Louis is wrapped around him, clinging to his back with arms floppy over Harry’s waist. His breath is warm against the younger boy’s neck, fluttering his curls slightly with every little snuffle.

Harry lets out a huff as he opens his eyes, smiling at the reminder that he got to spend the whole night with his boyfriend and that it can continue through to the morning. He shuffles backwards into Louis’ arms, and Louis holds him tighter, sighing into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Lou?” Harry breathes, wondering if the other boy is awake, and knowing that he’s a deep enough sleeper to not be disturbed by the sound if he wasn’t.

“Mmm?” Louis grumbles, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry’s not entirely sure if he’s completely awake, so he continues at the same volume. “You awake?”

Louis reply is muffled by the material of Harry’s t-shirt. “No. Still sleeping.”

“Okay.” Harry struggles to stop the grin crawling onto his face. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

There’s a pause for a moment before Louis hands shift suddenly, settling on Harry's hips. Harry squirms slightly, butterflies appearing in his stomach at the feeling of his boyfriend's hands on his bare skin. Louis presses his lips against Harry's shoulder, and Harry feels him smiling before he turns around in Louis' arms and grins at the older boy. As he goes to lean in for a good morning kiss, Louis flips him onto his back, sitting on Harry’s thighs and just looking down curiously at him. _No, perhaps curious isn’t right_ , Harry thinks. Somehow, it almost looks like awe. And that doesn’t make sense, unless Harry’s face has turned into a mirror or something.

“Have I got something on my face?” Harry eventually asks cheekily, grinning up at Louis.

Louis shakes his head, as if to redirect his focus, before placing his hands down on either side of Harry’s head and leaning forward, adjusting his legs until he’s hovering over him.

Harry’s heart stops for a moment as Louis leans down closer, his nose brushing against Harry’s cheekbone as he presses his lips to the corner of Harry’s mouth. It’s then that Harry decides to take the opportunity to tilt his head and kiss Louis properly, and celebrates internally when he feels Louis kissing back.

Unfortunately, the celebration is short lived, and Louis is pulling away mere seconds later, accompanied by the sound of his hands clenching into the sheets beside Harry’s ears.

Through his slight annoyance (and hint of offence), Harry just comes out with it.

“Am I not a very good kisser or something?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “What’s given you that idea?”

“Well…” Harry fumbles over his words a little, embarrassment seeping into his blood. “Recently,

whenever we've kissed, you've been pulling away, and we haven’t got anywhere near...I mean, we don’t exactly—”

“You're asking why we don't snog anymore?” Louis says bluntly, and that startles Harry; his eyes widening as if he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. There’s a pause before he nods shakily, grateful that Louis was the one to say it.

“You really want to know?” Louis' voice is soft and shy, and he's not quite making eye contact with Harry.

Realising that it is in fact his turn to talk, Harry mumbles, “Yeah.”

Louis sighs and clears his throat, rolling onto his back again and holding out his arms to pull Harry into his side.

“Well, I guess the main issue is that I’m worried about the extent to which I want you.”

Harry sucks in a breath, his heart hammering in his chest even at the lone thought of actually being wanted—let alone by a boy as beautiful as Louis.

“ _You want me?_ ” Harry squeaks.

“Mhmm,” Louis hums, brushing a hand back through Harry’s hair. “It’s all I can think about sometimes.”

Harry’s stomach is tying itself into tighter and tighter knots and...fuck. _Now is not the time to get hard_.

“You can’t just say that. Jesus Christ.”

Louis chuckles. “Flustered, are we?”

“Shut up.”

Louis presses a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, and Harry can feel him smiling into his curls. “Is that the answer you wanted?”

“Um, well, it wasn’t the one I was expecting—that’s for certain,” Harry replies. “But what can _I_ do to stop it being a problem?”

Wrapping his arms around the other boy tightly, Louis mumbles, “Just don't change a thing.”

 

~*~

 

Niall just bursts out laughing.

“That's not very helpful,” Harry comments, pouting into the sleeve of his jumper. “I was hoping you'd give me advice.”

Niall shakes his head, chuckles still leaving his mouth. “I know, I know. I just think that might've been the soppiest thing I've ever heard! And coming from Tommo? Who'd have thought it?”

Harry shrugs. “What if it was just a cop-out answer though? Maybe he just really doesn't want to kiss me.”

The laughter dies down and Niall looks a bit more serious. “I highly doubt that.” He pauses, shifting a little in his seat before leaning a bit closer to Harry. “Look, I'm not gonna tell you anything that's not my place to tell, but I will say that it takes a lot of time for Louis to trust people, no matter who they are or what they're like. I know that it's a pretty different situation with you—I mean, you're his soulmate for fuck's sake—but I think you just need to get to know him a bit better before you decide what your next move is.”

Harry thinks over what Niall has just said and knows that it makes an awful lot of sense. Louis has always been cautious with voicing his thoughts and acting on his feelings, so the most logical thing would be to make him feel more comfortable about it, and therefore hopefully trust Harry more.

“But do you think this might have something to do with his whole caution surrounding soulmates and stuff?”

Niall shrugs. “Maybe—I wouldn't know without talking to him about it, and it's a pretty sensitive subject.”

Harry nods; he knows that that's very true from their argument all those weeks ago.

Perhaps that shouldn't be the _first_ topic he chooses to bring up.

 

~*~

 

“Lou?”

Louis shifts his gaze from his homework up to Harry, the look of concentration not quite faded from his features. “Yeah, Haz?”

Kind of wishing he'd thought about what question he was going to start with, Harry says, “How did you meet Liam?”

Louis' curved eyebrows furrow a little and he shifts his position on the grass. “Why do you ask?”

With a small shrug lifting his shoulders, Harry mumbles, “Just wanted to make conversation.”

The eyebrows seem to get even closer together. “About Liam? Whilst we're doing our homework?” He then pauses. “We always stay quiet to do our homework. Is something wrong?”

 _Damn it,_ Harry didn't think of that. The two of them have a sort of unspoken rule where they stay mostly silent to do any school stuff so they get it done quicker and don't distract each other, 'cause, _“Let's face it, Lou—we'd never get anything done otherwise.”_

When Harry doesn't answer, Louis speaks again. “Well, I'd already been here for a couple of years before they moved a new boy into my room, and we were basically just left to get on with it. Luckily, because we have quite a bit in common, we...You don't really want to know, do you?”

“Of course I want to know, Lou,” Harry says honestly. “I'm interested in everything that you want to tell me.”

Louis' eyebrows change position again, this time moving up towards his fringe. “You are?”

Harry nods and takes Louis' free hand in his.

“You're too good to me,” Louis says softly, rubbing his thumb across the back of Harry's hand.

Harry can't help but smile as he looks at the boy beside him, watching their entwined hands with eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks. _God, he's beautiful._

Louis giggles. “You're one to talk.”

After biting his lip for a second, Harry sighs. “I forgot about that.”

“I let my guard down.”

Harry clears his throat. “Hey, any possibility of that happening more often?”

Louis finally lets his eyes meet Harry's as they crinkle at the corners. “I'm sure I could do something about that.”

 

~*~

 

It's almost completely dark inside the art room when he enters, the only source of light being the string of fairy lights near the window. The surface of Zayn's desk is covered in its usual utensils—pencils, watercolours, charcoals and the like—along with one lone piece of paper which Zayn has his eyes fixed on. He greets Harry softly, and Harry takes that as permission to make his way over.

“Liam's sister wrote me a letter,” Zayn eventually says when Harry has sat down on the bench running along the side of the room. “Turns out that there's a lot of stuff that Liam and I really didn't know.”

“Um, what kind of stuff?” Harry asks confusedly.

“Well, it's not the kind of things they tell you in Soulmatery, put it that way.”

Frowning, Harry holds out a hand towards the paper. “Can I—?”

Surprisingly, Zayn hands the sheet over straight away, mumbling something about how he needs a second opinion.

 

_Zayn,_

_Sorry to be so negative in my first letter to you in so long, but things really aren't good._

_Liam hasn't said much since he got here, but I'm guessing he told you that we found his soulmate, which is true, but it didn't really turn out as we expected. The soulmate kind of freaked out and told me I was crazy, so I left them alone and that's when I got in touch with Liam. Weirdly enough, even though I'd had all of the visions of the soulmate being Liam's, once I had spoken to the soulmate face to face, I had visions of them being in love with somebody else. I know that we learn how it's practically impossible, but I think Liam's soulmate already belongs to someone else. Well, I suppose I should say 'belonged', as the day that Liam arrived home, we found out that the soulmate and their other half had passed away._

_The problem now is that despite the fact that they never met and it was incredibly complicated, Liam is suffering like anybody would after losing their soulmate. He's a mess. At first I thought only time could heal him, but...well, this brings me to the main reason I'm writing to you._

_As soon as we heard about the soulmate passing away, I had a vision. It was of you and your soulmate, Zayn. It was of you and Liam._

_I'm sorry this is really not the best way of telling you this, but we will be sending Liam back to you soon and he's really gonna need you, so look after him for us, yeah?_

_Hopefully see you soon,_

_Ruth x_

 

Harry isn't sure what to say when he gets to the end of the letter, so he just looks up and notices that Zayn has been watching him.

“It's a bit of a mess, huh?” Zayn mumbles.

“So, uh, what are you gonna do?”

Zayn turns away and Harry can no longer read his expression with the numerous shadows on the older boy's face. “I really don't know. I understand that what Ruth is asking me is totally reasonable, and there's really nothing stopping me, but the concept of forming the connection with Liam... It kinda scares me.”

“But you get on so well with each other—would it really make that much of a difference?”

A small shrug lifts Zayn's shoulders. “It's so hard to tell. This loss could've changed Liam as a person. Forming a connection with me could do the same, or it could affect me. I've never come across any research into secondary pairings before; what if the fact that I'm not his primary pair will have an effect on our relationship? If I were to form a connection with him, I would want things to be exactly as they were before.”

“And they could be!” Harry says immediately. “Who's to say that things will change? And besides, he knows you ten times better than he knew his primary pair! No, forget that: he didn't even know his primary pair. You've got the upper hand here, Zee! Liam cares about you.”

“Well he didn't care enough to say goodbye!” Zayn suddenly exclaims.

“He...” Harry's voice drops to a quieter volume, “He didn't say goodbye?”

Zayn shakes his head quickly, doodling a swirled pattern on a scrap of paper on the desk.

“Perhaps... Perhaps he didn't know what to say. You hadn't been speaking, and—”

“I know, I know.” Zayn pauses and lets out a heavy breath. “I think I just need some time to think about it. Thanks for coming and speaking to me though—I really appreciate it, H.”

Harry nods and takes that as his cue to leave. “You're welcome, mate. I'll see you later. Breakfast?”

A small smile turns up the corners of Zayn's lips. “Yeah, maybe.”

 

Zayn doesn't turn up at breakfast the next day, but at dinner, Niall waves him over and he actually comes and sits with the three of them.

It's nice, and would feel almost normal, if it wasn't for the empty fifth seat.

 

~*~

 

Just as Harry is about to reach the Maths classroom, he's stopped in his tracks by a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him so he stumbles under the staircase and immediately collides with someone. The person's hands wrap around his waist to keep him steady and Harry looks up to meet Louis' smile.

“Hi?” Harry says questioningly.

Louis leans in and places his lips on Harry's for a second. “Hey. We're skiving—wanna come with?”

Harry's eyes widen a little. “Skiving?”

“Mhmm.” Louis looks back over his shoulder at the sound of a teacher's authoritative tone before shuffling the two of them further into the shadows. “We're just heading out to the treehouse—not too far.”

“I'm not sure...”

“Come on, Haz; I doubt you'll miss anything! _Please?_ ”

Harry's eyebrows furrow and he sees the door to the classroom closing out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.”

In the next couple of seconds, Louis has grabbed Harry's hand and teleported the two of them into the main area of the treehouse, where Niall and Zayn are already sat on the sofa with Xbox controllers in their hands.

Harry grins at Louis’ slightly surprised face—it’s taking a while for him to get used to how easy it is for the two of them to share their abilities—before taking the older boy’s hand and pulling him over to the armchair, where he drags him down onto his lap. Louis snuggles back into Harry’s chest and smiles against the material of his school shirt.

The moment Niall’s team loses, Louis is leaning over and holding out a hand to take the controller from him.

Niall scowls. “Rematch!”

“Oh come on, Ni: it’s my turn!” Louis whines.

Niall shakes his head indignantly, and Harry watches as his thumb moves over the buttons to press ‘Accept’ for a new match using the same teams.

Hmph.

The sound of annoyance is distinctly Louis’, but is one that only Harry can hear. He buries his grin into the back of Louis’ head, and in the next moment, the controller is in Louis’ hand, and both a triumphant cheer and a frustrated exclamation fill the air.

“B-but that’s not fair!” Niall shouts. “Zayn, tell them!”

Zayn just shrugs as Louis raises an eyebrow cockily.

“Maybe you should go out and get yourself a telekinetic soulmate if it bothers you that much,” he says proudly before turning and pressing his lips against Harry’s.

After that, Harry just can’t stop smiling.

 

~*~

 

On their return to school, Harry and Louis decide to walk, thinking that it would be unfair for them to teleport when Zayn and Niall still have the fairly long trek back. They hang behind the other two though, their hands swinging between them as they exchange occasional comments.

Harry gets to thinking about all of the questions he still wants to ask Louis. The trouble is, they’re almost all subjects that are hard to bring up—especially anything regarding his family. The only thing he knows is still that one snippet of information that Louis yelled at him weeks before.

_“My parents were practically Giselle and fucking Lucas, and look where it got them! They sacrificed everything to make their relationship work, and were together just long enough to get married and have me but then bam! In comes the goddamn Normals and they get locked away and tortured for a few days before they’re finally killed.”_

So, Louis is an orphan, and an only child. The thought alone of all of that happening to Louis and his family is heartbreaking.

However, that statement alone says a lot more than that. Perhaps it could be the reason why Louis hated the thought of Harry being his soulmate. Maybe it’s why he is iffy around anybody with any percentage of Normal blood in their body. The death of his parents has clearly affected him in a number of different ways, and Harry just wants to help him. He knows that he will never fill even the tiniest of spaces left in Louis’ heart, but he also knows that he will do whatever he can to keep Louis happy.

“Wow, H, you’ve got your focused face on—what’s up?”

Harry shrugs. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

Harry lets go of Louis hand to throw a punch at the older boy’s arm. Louis just laughs and pulls Harry closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple.

 

~*~

 

“It’s a swallow—I’m sure of it,” Niall says, staring at the single line on his forearm.

“Are you sure that’s not just wishful thinking?” Zayn asks from his desk, spinning a paintbrush between his fingers like a baton.

“Wishful or not, I’m gonna sue if this turns out to be a fucking lion.”

“Hey guys,” Louis says as he enters the room and makes his way over to sit beside Harry on the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

“Niall got his first physical line,” Harry explains.

Louis leans over curiously, and reaches out to touch it, but doesn’t make it when Niall quickly pulls his arm away and out of reach.

“Nuh-uh.” Niall shakes his head. “I don’t want you infecting it with any Strength or Speed germs.”

“You know that’s not how it works, Ni,” Louis argues. “And who’s to say I won’t be Flight.”

Zayn huffs out a laugh. “Mate, we’ve all seen you fly, and it’s an accident waiting to happen.”

“So?”

As conversation turns into a heated debate of what physical each person should get, it’s only Harry who notices the appearance of a new face poking around the door. He scrambles off the bed and rushes over, pulling the door open completely and wrapping his arms around the person’s frame.

There’s a moment of silence in the room before Niall and Louis join the group hug, cheering and exclaiming in happiness. It’s only when they pull away that they realise how the newcomer’s eyes have not once moved away from Zayn, who has now stood up from the desk and is standing in the middle of the room.

“Li,” he breathes, taking a small step towards the doorway.

After a moment so tense that the atmosphere in the room could be cut with a knife, Liam rushes over to Zayn, cups his face in his palms and kisses him.

As Louis pulls him out of the room, Harry catches a glimpse of their two auras merging into one.

It’s magical.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, I've just realised how long it's been since I last updated. I'M SO SORRY!!  
> Call It Magic is one of my favourite fic ideas, but I've learnt throughout writing it that it really is very hard to put on paper. I know I say this every time, but I will try my best to get the next chapter to you all much faster. 
> 
> This is a fluff-fest where we find out a bit more about Louis. I hope you enjoy :)

Exam period is a time that is stressful for all five of the boys.

Harry tries not to get distracted by Louis, and they decide to spend their nights and revision sessions separately. It’s during those times that Harry really realises how strong their bond has become, especially when they’re sat at opposite ends of the library and can feel their connection throbbing in their minds. There are even moments when Harry thinks that he can almost figure out what Louis is studying, just through the cloud of their shared aura. Of course they can share their thoughts directly through physical contact, but it seems that some things can travel through the air between them too. 

_ Fucking… Stupid.... Doesn’t make sense… _

These few words are enough for Harry to make an educated guess that Louis is currently revising the algebra section of his maths textbook, but when the words start to appear less frequently, he thinks that Zayn must be helping him with something. 

A loud  _ thud  _ from beside him makes Harry jump out of his skin.

“Bloody hell, Niall, I wish you’d stop with that.”

Niall just cackles gleefully and drops a biology revision guide next to his pencil case. “Sorry, mate. I’m just not quite used to it yet.”

Harry hums. “I can tell.”

“Ooh, you really do get cranky without Louis, don’t ya? Next thing you’ll be getting the shakes.”

“What are you saying?” Harry turns to him. “That I’m addicted to Louis?”

Shrugging, Niall flips the book open to the second chapter. “Maybe.”

Harry frowns and turns back to the practice paper laid out in front of him, reading through the long answer question on the next page. 

 

~*~

 

It’s been four hours now, and it’s getting to a point where Harry’s so tired of revision that he’s getting distracted by the wood pattern on his bedframe. He follows the rings and knots with the tip of his finger, trying to shift his focus back to the physics book on the duvet in front of him.

He gave up on the library eventually, deciding to leave without Louis seeing, even though the older boy would figure it out anyway. It would make it easier on them at least, and make their brief time together before bed a little bit more well-earned. 

_ Right. _

_ Explain why a double insulated appliance does not need the third wire. _

_ Okay. _

Before Harry even has chance to start dragging out some sort of answer, the door flies open and Louis rushes into the room in a blur of green hoodie and blue aura, immediately kneeing up onto the bed and cupping Harry’s face in his hands.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he says before connecting their lips passionately.

Harry whines with relief, chasing the feeling as he shifts closer and doesn’t care about the book and stationery that are about to fall on the floor.

Louis pulls away after a mere thirty seconds, resting their foreheads together as they breathe each other's air. “You’re so irresistible,” he whispers into the space. “You make it so difficult, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you give in?” Harry breathes.

There’s a challenge in Louis’ eyes, and as Harry awaits a negative response, he is surprised by the feeling of Louis’ lips against his once again. He quickly throws one arm around the older boy’s neck, gripping the front of his hoodie with his other hand. Louis groans, running one hand down to rest at Harry’s waist, and moving the other one even further south to his hip. Their lips are eager; forceful, and Harry just can’t get enough. Louis tastes like popcorn and his cocoa butter lip balm, and the scent of Lynx invades Harry’s senses, enveloping him in everything that is Louis. 

It’s yet again Louis who pulls back, and Harry frowns. 

“Please don’t stop.”

Louis bites his lip and looks away. “I have to.”

Harry shuffles even closer, moving his hand from the material of Louis’ hoodie to meet with the one at the back of his neck. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles, softly pressing his lips against Louis’ cheek. “I remember what you said. I didn’t mean to push you… it’s just that—”   
“Harry.” Louis turns back to face the younger boy again, raising a hand to stroke along Harry’s jaw. “ _ I’m  _ sorry. It’s not fair on you for me to keep acting like this.”

“But, Lou—” 

“I can’t keep messing you around and pushing you away.”

Harry says nothing; just remains still in Louis’ arms and listens to their slightly quickened breaths as Louis’ thumb continues moving back and forth across Harry’s skin. 

“Look, H. I know things between us aren’t… well, we aren’t like most soulmates our age. And”—he pauses to take a breath—“I know that it’s because of me. Because of me and my...cautious ways.”

Harry scoffs slightly. “You’re hardly a cautious person, Lou. You’re the most spontaneous and outgoing person I know.”

A weak smile tugs at the corners of Louis’ mouth. “Maybe you’re right, but I know that you...you scare me. You have so much power over me and my feelings, and your presence alone is enough to make me feel like I can do anything. You, Harry, make me strong, but at the same time, very weak.”

Harry is speechless; completely surprised by Louis’ words and the raw emotion lying beneath them. 

“I...I never thought I’d have someone as good as you in my life. I guess I assumed that I’d never find my soulmate after what happened with my parents, and yet here you are.” Louis pulled Harry tighter against him, and Harry pressed his face into the older boy’s neck. 

“You know that you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“I owe it to you, H. Just—just bear with me, yeah?” Louis sucks in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before sighing slightly. “I hadn’t been born for very long when my parents died. I don’t remember them at all, so at first, it never bothered me any more than it would anybody else. I just remained blank. I’ve always seen the others at Donny as my family, because they looked after me and made sure I was okay before they sent me here as soon as they could to keep me safe. 

“My parents were both Magics, and both of them lived with their families in the Magic dimension, but my dad’s family’s power was weak compared to the power of my mum’s family. At the time, there was this belief going ‘round that the ones with weaker powers could be lying about being Full Magics. This meant that my parents were in completely separate circles for their whole lives, and never knew each other.

“They continued to avoid each other for ages, until they realised that they always ended up bumping into each other—like it was some weird fate thing. In the end, they gave in and just let it happen. Everyone was disgusted, and they were told to choose between each other and their families.

“They chose family for appearance sake, but kept seeing each other in secret, until my mum found out that she was pregnant. So to avoid being found out, they decided to leave the Magic dimension and come here, to the Normal world. They fitted in well; no one suspected a thing, and they made friends with other Magics in the area who had spent years keeping a low profile. 

“When I was born, however, I apparently gave the game away a bit and...well, that was kind of it. The Normals freaked out and killed them. I never knew anything of either of them. All I have is this story that my family told me when they knew I’d be old enough to understand.”

Louis’ voice shakes a little as his story comes to an end, and Harry remains silent as he processes it all. The whole thing explained so much: why Louis is wary of Normals, why he’d been so cautious creating a connection with Harry (let alone the fact that he has a lot of Normal blood in him) and why he’s so careful when it comes to showing affection. 

Harry’s at a loss of what to say, so he just holds Louis tighter as he feels occasional tear drops falling onto his head. 

 

~*~

 

“So, as this is the last Mental Enhancement lesson before your exams, we must discuss your assessments, which will be taking place immediately after your academic studies are over for the year.”

Harry turns to Louis with wide eyes. “Assessment?” he mouths. 

Louis moves his chair a bit closer and leans in to whisper, “It’s nothing major, babe. They just ask you to show them how you use your mental.”

Mr Archer places a slip of paper on the desk in front of Harry, which reads: 

_ Harry Styles, _

_ Your Mental Assessment will take place in  _ **_MeA2_ ** _ on the  _ **_2nd of July_ ** _ at  _ **_10.45am._ **

“But—”

Another piece of paper is then put on Louis’ desk, and Harry looks over to see that Louis’ timeslot is two days after his.

“Can we swap?” he asks, only half-joking as Louis’ eyes scrunch up sympathetically. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, honest.”

Harry folds over the corner of the sheet. “I’m still not great at using my mental on command.”

“And they will understand that,” Louis reassures. “We can practice together, if you like?”

Harry nods slowly and Liam chooses that moment to join the conversation.

“I’ve heard that this year they can test you on your physicals too,” he says.

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “But Harry’s mark hasn’t appeared yet—has it, H?”

Harry shakes his head quickly. Too quickly. 

“Harry?”

“Okay class, that’s the end of this lesson. I wish you the best of luck in your academic exams, and I will see you in your assessments,” Mr Archer announces, holding the door open for the class to leave. 

The three boys stand in silence and make their way out of the classroom. Harry notices Louis saying something quietly to Liam before he’s turning and grabbing Harry’s arm, leading them in the opposite direction to where they had organised to meet up with Niall and Zayn in the courtyard. 

Louis opens the door to his dorm and lets Harry past before closing the door behind them. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”   
Harry swallows nervously before answering. “I thought… Well, because you didn’t tell me about yours—”

“What? I haven’t got mine yet.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow together as he thinks about the tiny ‘w’ shape on Louis’ shoulder blade. “Didn’t you realise I’d notice when we’ve shared a bed quite a few times recently?”

“Harry, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

After stepping closer to his boyfriend, Harry reaches out for the top few buttons of Louis’ shirt, unbuttoning them carefully before gently pulling it over his head. Louis lets him, curiously watching as the younger boy then leads him over to the full-body mirror on the door of his wardrobe. 

“Look over your shoulder,” he says softly, reaching out to briefly brush his fingers over the lines and trying not to smile when Louis shudders at the touch. 

Louis keeps looking at him for a moment before twisting his body around to look into the reflective surface of the mirror. There’s a clear split-second when Louis sees it, and his mouth falls open slightly. 

“It’s a swallow’s tail,” he whispers. 

Harry nods, catching Louis’ eye in the mirror. “You’re gonna fly.”

“How about you?” Louis says after a few more seconds, turning back around to face the other boy. “Where’s yours?”

Harry lifts up the corner of his shirt to show Louis the curved line he had found the other day in the shower. It stretches down from his hipbone, towards the bottom of his back—Harry has no idea what it could be the start of. 

“Hard to tell, isn’t it?” Louis voices Harry’s thoughts aloud. “Do you have a feeling?”

Harry shrugs. “Don’t think so. Just a line.”

When Louis meets Harry’s eyes again, he smiles softly. “It’s much more than that.”

 

~*~

 

The sun streaming through the small gap in the curtains is completely unwelcome and causes a feeling of dread in the pit of Harry’s stomach. He glances across to where Louis is still sound asleep, one arm resting over Harry’s hip. Harry had stayed the night in Louis’ room after their final practice before Harry’s assessment today. To be completely honest, he would rather retake all of his academic exams than go and be tested on his telekinesis. He still has barely any control over it at all—much to his annoyance and disappointment. 

Louis suddenly rolls over onto his stomach, the tip of his nose lightly touching the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder. He lets out a little snuffle before settling once again.

Harry smiles fondly, wishing he could also go back to sleep. It’s still early, and he doesn’t exactly feel like just lying there and worrying about the day ahead. 

“Ugh,” Louis groans, shuffling even closer to Harry and wrapping his arms tighter around the other boy. “Don’t your thoughts ever shut up?”

“Stop touching me then,” Harry replies matter-of-factly, grinning down at Louis who looks up tiredly and scoffs in response. “Besides,” Harry continues, “according to Liam,  _ you’re  _ the one with the loud thoughts.”

Louis scowls. “You said you wouldn’t mention that again.”

Harry can’t help but giggle at his boyfriend’s disgruntled expression, leaning down to press a kiss to the others boy’s forehead.

“You don’t need to be nervous though,” Louis says softly, rubbing his thumb gently against the line on Harry’s hip. 

Harry sighs. “I’m dreading it.”

“But they know that it’s still new to you! It’s been, what, six months? They’re not going to compare your powers to anybody who’s been here longer than you,” Louis reassures as he moves his other hand across the pillow to nestle in Harry’s curls. “I just wish I could be there with you. You know how much I can help you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Harry grins. “That happens with all soulmates. You do make me lose control a bit though.”

“Likewise,” Louis says, seeming even closer to Harry than before, “in more ways than one.”

Harry decides to take the opportunity and lean in closer to Louis until their lips are lightly brushing against each other. Before he has chance to even think about doing any more than that, Louis has dug his fingers tighter into Harry’s hair and closed the gap between them. 

Louis pulls away before the kiss can move past being chaste, and Harry feels his shoulders sag in his usual disappointment. He keeps that feeling out of his facial expression though… at least, that’s what he thinks. 

“Nuh uh,” Louis chides, shaking his head as he reaches out and presses his fingers to Harry’s bottom lip. “Don’t wanna see that p-pout. Just need to brush my teeth. N-not done with you yet.”

Harry had never once heard Louis stumbling over his words in such a way before, and he watches curiously as Louis detangles himself and rushes over to the bathroom. He doesn’t shut the door the whole way though, so Harry joins him at the sink at a slower pace. The two of them keep making eye contact in the mirror as they brush their teeth and soon start to pull silly faces at one another—until Harry nearly chokes on his toothpaste from laughing too hard. That in turn starts Louis’ giggles, and after they’ve both rinsed out their mouths, he pulls Harry close by the hips, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“You’re so cute,” he whispers. 

Harry grins before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ lips. “Likewise.”

Returning the smile, Louis reaches out for Harry’s hand and pulls him back into the bedroom, reattaching their lips once again as they stumble across the room to Louis’ bed. Harry feels the mattress at the back of his knees and falls backwards onto it, pulling Louis down on top of him. Louis pulls away briefly, only to press his lips to Harry’s neck.

“I...don’t want...to crush you,” he mumbles between kisses before glancing up at Harry for his answer. 

“Lou, you’re as light as a feather,” he says softly, running his hand through Louis’ soft hair and resting a hand at the back of Louis’ head to gently guide his mouth up to his once again.

It takes a moment, but Louis eventually lets himself melt further into Harry’s embrace as he keens into the other boy’s mouth and grips onto the pillow beneath his head. The only part of their bodies still not meeting are their hips, which Louis separates by putting most of his weight on his knees where he sits astride Harry’s stomach. Despite the growing hardness at the crotch of Harry’s pajama bottoms, he can’t bring himself to be bothered by the lack of friction; having Louis kissing him for longer than a single minute is amazing enough. 

Louis’ tongue explores Harry’s open mouth at a slow pace, but there’s no impatience. Neither of them are in a rush, and frankly, Harry could do this all d—

Their lips separate carefully with a small sound when Harry’s phone buzzes on the bedside table, showing a reminder about his assessment that will be taking place in fifteen minutes. 

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, reaching over to tap the screen once. 

Louis’ hands gently entangle themselves in Harry’s hair and scratch his scalp soothingly. “You’ll be fine. I have every faith in you.”

“Oh, no; I wasn’t— God, I didn’t even think about that…”

“What do you…?” Louis pauses as a slow smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You mean that you don’t wanna stop kissing me?”

A light pink dusts across Harry’s cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna stop kissing you either,” Louis admits. 

“Does this mean we can, um... do this again sometime?” 

Leaning down, Louis presses one more gently kiss to Harry’s now slightly-redder lips. “I’d like that.”

 

~*~

 

“Harry—come on in.”

Mr Hart is holding the door open to the classroom where the mental assessment will be taking place, a warm smile on his face as he steps back slightly to let Harry past. He holds out a hand towards the middle of the room, so Harry makes his way over to stand and face the table where Mr Archer is sat next to a woman he recognises as being Mrs Gardner’s assistant, Jane. Mr Hart sits down in the final chair and rests his arms on the table, leaning forward in his seat.

“Harry Styles; one of the new students this year, and your mental is telekinesis—correct?”   
Harry nods, his mouth feeling dry as sandpaper as his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. 

“Any sign of your physical yet?”

He wants to lie; wants to act like he has no idea or no sign anywhere on his body. The line burns across his hip though, reminding him of the fact that some Magics have the mental ability of being able to tell what other Magics’ physicals are, and he doesn’t want to be caught lying. 

“Just a line, sir,” he croaks, wringing his hands together.

“No feeling of anything?”

“No, sir.” 

The movement of Jane writing something down catches his eye and immediately makes him feel even more nervous (if it were possible). 

“Okay then.” Mr Hart leans back in his seat, looking satisfied by Harry’s answers as Mr Archer then opens his mouth to speak. He begins to explain that in normal tests for telekinetic Magics, it’s all about the mass of the objects that can be moved with mental power alone. Apparently, for someone of his age—along with the fact that he has found his soulmate and is in a comfortable relationship with them—he should be able to lift at least his own body weight if not more. He should also be able to move that mass at least three metres off the ground, and about five metres away from him. 

The short explanation is enough to remove any remaining confidence Harry has. During his practice sessions with Louis and the others, it’s never been the size of the objects he’s been moving, or the distance or height he can move them—it’s always just been whether he can move anything in the first place, be it a pencil or a text book. 

“After some discussion, however, we have decided that because this is all still very new to you, we will just observe you using your telekinesis in any way you desire.”

The words ring as a reminder in Harry’s head; a conversation he’d had with Louis about how these tests are almost like that part of the  _ Hunger Games  _ where the participants are observed in a chosen skill and then given a score on how well they can do it. Louis had then watched Harry simply moving a book from one desk to another before wrapping his arms around him and whispering, “ _ Full marks _ ,” in his ear. 

That one simple thought alone is enough to get a buzzing on the inside of both of Harry’s elbows, and he has a sudden urge to get this assessment over and done with as soon as he can. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Mr Hart says, smiling encouragingly. 

Harry swallows, stepping backwards a little and scanning his surroundings to see what he could possibly work with in the room. The majority of the furniture that normally fills the space has been cleared, leaving one long table at the back of the room, the one at the front where his observers are sat and a small desk which has what looks to be a plain notebook on top of it, along with a few different pieces of stationery. 

Deciding to start out small, Harry focuses his energy on a yellow ruler, narrowing his eyes in its direction and trying not to raise his hands as he normally would.

_ (“It shows how new you are to all of this,” Zayn had pointed out. _

_ “But he  _ is  _ new to it,” Louis had replied protectively. “If it makes him feel more comfortable, there’s nothing stopping him using his hands.”) _

Before he can even get the energy any further down his arm, the feeling disappears as suddenly as it arrived. He lets out a visible deep breath which prompts Mr Hart to say,

“Take your time.”

As much as Harry appreciates his kindness, he really wishes he hadn’t have reminded him of the presence of the three other Magics in the room. He wants to forget that they’re there; he needs to focus hard enough to forget them. 

He stares at the ruler again, searching his brain for something that will click and give him the energy he needs to make it move, even if it’s just a little bit. 

_ “I just wish I could be there with you. You know how much I can help you.” _

It’s Louis. Just over an hour ago Louis had said that to him, and all of a sudden, it’s all Harry can think about. The two of them have already experienced the effect their bond has on their mental abilities, and as much as it scared Louis the first time it happened, they have learnt how advantageous it can actually be. With that thought in mind, Harry finds himself with Louis at the forefront of his mind.  He has his eyes scrunched shut without even realising, a ghostly feeling of gentle arms around his waist as he pictures Louis being there with him, murmuring soft words of encouragement. Harry keeps his arm down by his side and the buzzing feeling returns, this time at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. It almost feels like Louis’ lips brushing against the skin, and that’s enough to send Harry’s thoughts into overdrive, images from just an hour previous being projected onto his closed eyelids. The warmth of Louis’ mouth on his, the sparks formed every time their wandering hands met soft skin—it’s enough to expel the energy out through his pores and into his surroundings with the intention to attract any objects that are able to be moved. A soft breeze brushes over his skin and a whoosh of air tells him that he’s moved at least something, be it the ruler or something else. 

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Jane says after a moment, and Harry slowly opens his eyes to see a small pile of stationery at his feet. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips and he glances up at the three Magics sat in front of him. Jane looks surprised, Mr Archer looks somewhat proud and Mr Hart looks smug as he pulls the table back towards the three of them.

_ Did I move that?  _ Harry wonders, glancing around him for a moment to see that the small desk beside him also seems to have moved a bit closer. 

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll be having a bit of a feedback session once everybody’s assessments are finished, so I’ll see you then,” Mr Archer explains, smiling warmly. 

 

~*~

  
  


Niall, Zayn and Liam are all sat on the grass in the courtyard when Harry steps outside—well, Niall is hovering about thirty centimetres off the ground, but that had become the norm more recently—and each of them look up as he approaches, hopeful expressions on their faces.

“How did it go?” Zayn asks from where he is perched on Liam’s lap. 

Harry grins. “I think it went well.”

Niall cheers and swoops through the air to where Harry is stood, his feet not touching the ground for a second before he’s wrapping his arms around him and lifting him slightly off the ground. “I knew you could do it!” he exclaims. “What did you have to show them?”

As Harry explains exactly what had happened during his mental assessment, he begins to feel the warmth of Louis’ aura getting closer to him but ignores it until Louis has his arms wrapped around his waist and chin rested on his shoulder. 

“So it went well, then?” Louis says once Harry has finished his story.

Harry nods, smiling as Louis leans around him to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, his lips brushing Harry’s skin with every word. 

Harry thinks about turning around a little more so that he can kiss Louis properly, but decides against it, unsure as to what Louis might think about that. This morning was probably the most they’ve ever kissed and despite how amazing it was, Harry doesn’t want to worry Louis by pushing him too far too soon. 

 

The five of them spend the following hour and a bit just relaxing together and chatting about Zayn, Louis and Niall’s upcoming Mental Assessments. All Niall can seem to talk about is the fact that he’ll have an opportunity to show off his flying abilities, which they all knew he would be excited about. 

Both Zayn and Louis are quite chilled about the tests, knowing pretty much exactly what they will be asked to do and being pretty confident in their capabilities.

“Plus,” Zayn adds, “the fact that we’ve both found our soulmates this year will put us at a major advantage.”

Harry remembers Mr Archer saying something about his abilities potentially being stronger due to the fact he has found his soulmate, and now he has chance to think about it properly, there was a section about that in one of the textbooks Mr Hart had given him during one of his Soulmatery classes.

_ ‘When a connection is formed, there is likely to be a burst of energy. Powers may grow out of control, be it for mere seconds or even hours. There’s no telling how much a bond can have an effect on the strength of a Magics power, but it often results in an increase.’ _

Interesting.

“‘S just like physics,” Louis is saying. “Speed equals distance over time. It’s always the same. They’ll test me on two of the parts and do a calculation. They then look at other teleport times, distances, speeds et cetera, and that’s it. Pretty boring if you ask me.”

“Do you think you’re more powerful now?” Harry suddenly blurts out. “Since you...bonded, I mean.”

Louis looks thoughtful for a moment before he squeezes Harry’s waist where he has his arm around him. “I’m pretty sure that I am,” he replies. “Like most of the time I feel like it takes barely any effort for me to teleport from A to B, and before I used to have to think about it quite a lot.”

Harry nods and smiles, desperate to ask the next question that’s on the tip of his tongue. He wants to find out whether Louis felt that same rush of strength that Harry felt just from their kissing earlier that morning. At first Harry assumed it was just because he’s a hormonal teenager in a relationship and that makeout session was enough to make him feel on top of the world—which it was—but with the way his telekinesis responded after simply  _ thinking  _ about said makeout session made him wonder if it was something else.

“Lunchtime!” Niall suddenly exclaims, finally placing his feet on the ground so he can leg it to Gwidding Hall (apparently he’s not fast enough at flying yet, preferring to use it for hovering and casual floating purposes).

Louis stands and offers Harry a hand to help him up, pulling him into his side as soon as they start walking across the courtyard. 

“You’re right,” he whispers into Harry’s ear.

“About what?”

“About feeling something after...this morning.”

_ Shit, Harry really needs to try and hold his thoughts back sometimes. _

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed; I’m—” Louis cuts himself off, looking back over his shoulder at Zayn and Liam to let them know that they’ll be along in a few minutes before pulling Harry away from the group of students on their way to lunch and towards one of the back corridors that was currently empty. 

“Lou?” Harry asks after a moment of silence, searching Louis’ eyes for something to tell him what direction this conversation might be headed in. 

A visible sigh leaves Louis’ body before he speaks again. “Look, H, what I’m trying to say is that this morning opened my eyes. It made me realise how much I want all of this with you, and that it’s time for me to move on from my worries and just give it a go.”

A cloud of hope drifts out of Harry’s lungs on a breath, catching in his throat as he croaks, “Really?”

“I know I said that I was being cautious, and now you know the reasons for that but… I trust you, Harry. You mean so much to me,” Louis explains.

Harry can’t stop the smile from forming on his face. “You mean a lot to me, too.”

There’s a mirroring grin slowly appearing as Louis’ eyes crinkle. “I wasn’t lying before, though,” he adds, leaning closer to murmur, “when I said I was worried about how much I want you.”

A tingle of energy buzzes up Harry’s spine and he’s just thinking about closing the gap between them when all of the paintings on the walls near them fall to the ground with a loud clatter. Those closest to the two boys begin to shuffle along the floor until one nudges the side of Louis’ shoe. 

“Finished?” Louis asks, soft chuckles bursting from his lips as the normally inanimate objects come to a stop. 

Harry bites his lip and glances up at Louis, a curl falling over his eyes before Louis brushes it away and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is super appreciated!!   
> (What do you think Harry's Physical ability will be? :))

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com)
> 
> [{Fic Post}](http://truthtattoos.tumblr.com/post/138359685903/call-it-magic-by-dontlethimgo-truthtattoos-at)


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